


Jim versus the Volcano

by Tinnean



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, First Times, M/M, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinnean/pseuds/Tinnean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wealthy businesswoman Naomi Sandburg makes former police detective, Jim Ellison, an offer too good to refuse. On his travels, he meets three very different men, with one thing in common: they all resemble each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jim versus the Volcano

## Jim versus the Volcano

by Tinnean

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinns>

Still not mine. All things Sentinel belong to Petfly. Joe versus the Volcano belongs to Warner Brothers. Crossing Jordan belongs to Tim Kring.

Thanks go to Patt for the heads up about Joel and Henri, and for the art; she always works so hard for me, and to Gail for the handholding and the marvelous beta.

This first appeared in the MME zine, The Many More Movies of the Sentinel. Jordan is Jordan Cavanaugh, of the TV show Crossing Jordan. Douleur dans l'ane translates literally to pain in the ass. The song Joel mangles is Jamaica Farewell. #### denotes change of POV. ~~~~ indicates a dream sequence.

* * *

Jim versus the Volcano 

Prologue -Cascade 

I had a really good job, a job I loved, a job I was good at: I was a police detective. I worked out of Major Crimes in Cascade, Washington. 

I'd been named Cop of the Year, and I was in line for a major promotion. 

But then there had been that hostage situation; a spurned boyfriend who snatched the woman's three kids and swore he'd kill them, cut their throats like butter, if she didn't take him back. 

Yeah, I know. That would make _me_ want to take him back in a heartbeat. Go figure. 

The captain of the SWAT team fired a tear gas canister into the crackerjack box of a house, and it had burst into flames. I could hear them screaming from three blocks away. 

By the time my partner, Brian Rafe, had pulled our car to a screeching halt across the street, the house was almost completely engaged. 

"Why aren't you going after the kids?" I demanded frantically. 

"They're dead, Jim. They're all dead!" The captain put his hand on my shoulder and gave what he thought was a comforting squeeze. 

I knocked his hand off my arm and dashed into the house. How could they not hear the screams of those little kids? The smoke was thick and black and suffocating. I dropped to the floor and crawled to where I could hear the whimpers. 

"I'm here, kids!" I scooped up the two smallest. "Grab my shirt tail and hang on, okay, honey?" I told the oldest one, then I started out. 

"Fucking hell, how did you know these two were still alive, Ellison?" the captain demanded. 

I was coughing out smoke that seemed to have taken up residence in my lungs. My partner was pounding my back in an attempt to restore normal breathing, and cursing me out under his breath. "Fucking hero! Could have gotten yourself killed! Goddamn it, Jim, you had me so scared..." 

"Could...couldn't you hear them? Wait a minute, _two_ of them? Where's the one who was holding my shirt?" 

They looked at me as if I was nuts, and I gave the two boys to the paramedics who were waiting impatiently to take them from me. Before Rafe could stop me, I wheeled around and bolted back into the house. 

She was in the hallway, just outside the door to the room where I'd found them. I grabbed her up and turned, and the blast from hell hit me in the back and threw the two of us forward. Somehow I managed to turn in midair so that when we landed, I took the brunt of the fall, and then I began the nightmare crawl out into the sunlight and the sweet, untainted air. 

I collapsed on the sidewalk where a piece of glass was just in my line of vision. The sun bounced off it. I stared at it, lost in the prism of colors that seemed to stream out of it. I was sucked into it. 

"Ellison! Ellison! What the fuck is wrong with him?" I could hear the voices, but it was as if I was enveloped in a thick cloud. "Jim! Don't do this to me!" They were muffled and barely distinguishable. 

Abruptly I came out of it. I looked around me. The house had been reduced to rubble and black ash. The children had been taken to the hospital accompanied by their Mom, while the boyfriend was in a body bag, waiting for the coroner's wagon. 

"Jesus, Jim! That was the bravest, _stupidest_ fucking thing I have ever seen!" Rafe knelt beside me, stroking my arm with one hand, while the other scrubbed at the tears that were drying on his cheeks. "I thought you were dead for sure!" 

But all I could think of were those words: 'What the fuck is wrong with him?' Why had I heard what they hadn't? Why had the odor of burning flesh nearly overcome _me_? Why had the sparkling piece of glass sent me to a place where there were only shades of grey? 

The events of that day began to haunt me. Mornings, when I was scrambling up some eggs. What was wrong with me? Afternoons, when I was testifying in court. //What was wrong with me?// Evenings, when I should have been making love to Rafe. 

*//What was wrong with me?//* 

I became sure that the problem was that I had some rare disease. I didn't want to think that I was losing my mind. 

And then I nearly cost Rafe his life. When you're on a stakeout, and your partner is depending on you to watch his back, you can't start daydreaming, staring off into space. Someone could wind up dead. Rafe very nearly did. 

Oh, he never blamed me, but I didn't trust myself any longer. 

After that, I left the police department and my lover, although he pleaded with me not to go. I couldn't bear the pitying looks I got from colleagues and friends, and I left Cascade as well. I went as far away as I could, stopped only by the Atlantic Ocean... 

//Once upon a time, there was a guy named Jim... 

//Who had a very lousy job...// 

Staten Island-Jim 

It took me three and a half years, but I finally found a place that didn't cause my senses to jump off the charts, and I finally found a job, in the advertising department of American Panascope, the country's leading producer of anal probes. 

Although my senses calmed down, I could never shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with me, and so I began an endless round of finding another doctor, another test. 

The only thing that made my days bearable was the young secretary who manned the front desk. Sandy had long curly brown hair and blue eyes. More than anything I wanted to ask him out, but I was wallowing in such a cesspool of despair. I couldn't subject him, I couldn't subject anyone, to the shell of a man that I was. 

So each day I would come in and mumble a hello, then go to my cubicle and think of what it might have been like with him... 

* * *

Staten Island-Sandy 

I'd worked at American Panascope since I'd graduated from high school. I'd wanted to go to college, but my Mom insisted I could never make a living as an anthropologist, and so I took the first job that I came across in the want ads. I hated my boring job, and I hated my boring life, but I knew I would never leave. It was a scary world out there. 

From behind the closed door of her office, I could hear Ms. Plummer, my acerbic supervisor, on the phone. 

"I know he can get the job, but can he _do_ the job?" 

I sighed. She would spend the next twenty minutes repeating this. "I know he can get the job, but can he _do_ the job?" Then she'd call me into that dreary office, and for another twenty minutes she would rant about how she had never said that, and if she had, she would be wrong, but she _wasn't_ wrong, because she _hadn't_ said it. I'd have to sit on the other side of her desk, taking notes, and trying not to let her see how much I didn't want to be there. 

My nose was running, and I sniffed hard. The door to our department opened and _he_ walked in. James Ellison. The most gorgeous man I had ever seen. Even though it was against company policy, I wished he would ask me out on a date, but he never noticed me beyond wishing me a brief good morning, every morning. 

"Good morning, Sandy." 

I sniffed and ran the side of my hand under my nose. "Morning, Jim." I gathered up my courage and managed to say more than my usual two words to him. "How are you feeling today?" 

"I feel like garbage, Sandy." 

"What's wrong, Jim?" 

His smile was wry. "I'm losing my soul, Sandy." Oh, the poor man! But then he held up his shoe, displaying the ragged, torn leather of his sole. "My clothes feel uncomfortable against my skin, my sense of smell is going wonky on me, I'm seeing weird shit." His complexion was grey, and he hacked a bit as if to clear his throat. "And my hearing..." He flinched. "Jesus, is Ms. Plummer still having that same fucking conversation?" 

I thumbed the intercomm. Sure enough, the boss was still going strong. "I'm not saying that. I'm not saying that! If I had said that, I would be wrong, but I did not say that! I _know_ he can get the job! But can he _do_ the job?" How had Jim been able to hear her? 

Jim reached out his hand, and for a minute I thought he would ruffle my hair, but he didn't. He turned away and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that had been sitting on the hot plate since I had come in. I knew the powdered creamer must be clumping in his cup, just as it always clumped in mine, and yet he always put in a teaspoon. I wondered if he did that in hopes that maybe this time it would be fresher? Only it never was. 

He walked down the short corridor that led to his cramped cubicle, pushed open the swinging doors, and disappeared through them. 

I'd peeked into his personal file once, and I knew that at one point he had lived on the West coast, which was so glamorous. I didn't understand what kind of lure Staten Island could hold for him or why he would take a dead end job at American Panascope, but I was happy he was in my life, even if it was in such a minor way. 

I'd been in his cubicle once, too, delivering a message I had taken for a cancellation of one of the seemingly never-ending doctors' appointments he made. "That's such a pretty lamp, Jim," I had whispered after I had handed him the slip of paper. I had been desperate to start up a conversation, and so I remarked on the lamp that sat on his desk. 

"It's a music box too. See?" He'd switched it on, and the shade turned gently, displaying a panther stalking through a lush rainforest. Soft strains of a melody I felt I should have been able to recognize filled the room and seemed to keep him calm and grounded. He'd looked at the fluorescent lighting overhead and said sadly, "I feel like they suck the moisture right out of my eyeballs. Do you understand what I mean, Sandy?" 

I nodded, but I didn't, not really. I wanted to know why he stayed here, but I was always afraid to ask, in case it gave him the idea that maybe he should leave. I sighed and opened a window in Excel. 

Ms. Plummer came barreling out of her office. "Where is he?" she barked, and I cringed in my chair. 

"Wh... who, Ms. Plummer?" I stammered. 

"Wh... who?" she mocked me. "That fucking waste on the face of the earth! James Ellison, that's who!" 

"Um... he's in his office, ma'am." I sank down, trying to make myself as tiny as possible. I didn't deal well with confrontations, and my boss always managed to make me feel about two inches tall. 

With a final sneer in my direction, she stormed through the swinging doors. As they swung back and forth, I could see the subdued lighting Jim had been able to provide for himself. 

Ms. Plummer's voice was so loud I had no trouble hearing the conversation out at my desk. "I've got eight orders here, Jim. Each order needs five catalogues!" 

"There are only twelve catalogues left." 

Our boss stalked out of Jim's office, hurling abuse back over her shoulder. "You asshole! Why didn't you inform me?" 

"I told you they needed to be ordered three weeks ago, Ms. Plummer." Jim followed her out, still speaking in a subdued tone. "I told you again two weeks ago. Last week I put the requisition on your desk and it's been sitting there since then!" 

"Did you _tell_ me last week?" He shook his head. "See? This is why I can't give you that promotion! I _wanted_ to give you that promotion, but you're just not flexible, Jim! You have to get into a flexible frame, or else you are no place!" 

"Yes, ma'am." He wasn't really paying attention to her, I could see that; his eyes were darting all over the room. He cleared his throat and licked his lips nervously. "I... uh... I need to take some extra time during lunch." 

"Another doctor's visit? Get with the program, Ellison. There's nothing wrong with you beyond the fact that you're a lazy shit!" 

"I'm not lazy. I just don't feel good." 

"Nobody feels good! After childhood it's a fact of life!" Jim bowed his head and let Ms. Plummer's tirade flow over him. Finally our manager wound down, having expended her bile. "Oh, all right. But you won't get paid for this. You've used up all your sick time, as well as all your personal days!" 

"I understand, ma'am. Thank you." 

I stared at Jim in shock. After Ms. Plummer had returned to her office and slammed shut the door behind her, I whispered, "Why do you let her talk to you like that?" 

Jim's blue eyes looked into mine, and they were so filled with sadness I wanted to cry out in protest, but he just shrugged and said nothing. His shoulders were slumped, and he went back to his cubicle to do the best he could with the few supplies he had available to him. 

* * *

I pulled the brown paper sack from my bottom desk drawer and set my lunch on my desk: a stale sandwich, a mealy apple, and a thermos of coffee that had sat on my hot plate overnight and tasted scorched. 

Jim came out of his cubicle, buttoning his overcoat. 

"See you later, Jim," I said quietly, and he offered a bleak smile, then walked out of our department. 

"Sandy!" 

I jumped, and I spilled some of the coffee down the front of my moth-eaten sweater. She was always making me do that. "Yes, Ms. Plummer?" 

"Get in here. Now!" 

I swallowed hard and entered her office, dragging my feet. I stood by the door, my adam's apple bobbing nervously. 

She rose from her desk and walked around it, studying me carefully. Then she shook her head. "I just don't get it." 

"Get what, ma'am?" 

"That fuck Ellison has been watching your ass. Did you know that?" 

My heart leaped with pleasure. "Really, ma'am?" I breathed. Jim had been sneaking peeks at my ass? 

"We don't allow fraternization in this company, Sandy. Especially _that_ kind!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ms. Plummer. Jim has never asked me out." 

"Yes, well, from the looks he's been giving you, it seems like he's finally working up the nerve. You will turn him down. If I find you've been meeting after hours, I'll have no qualms in seeing you transferred to the Bronx!" 

I had taken a breath, about to flout her, but the threat being sent to the Bronx terrified me, and I sagged in defeat. "Yes, ma'am." I couldn't meet the triumph in her eyes. 

"Good. Now, get back to your desk!" 

I scurried out of her office and slunk into my seat. My lunch looked even more unappetizing, and I dropped it into the wastebasket under my desk. I pulled up another window in Excel and began keying in an invoice for a dozen cartons of the lubricant that usually accompanied American Panascope anal probes. The delivery would be going to San Francisco. 

* * *

Staten Island-Jim 

Why wouldn't the doctors believe me when I told them that there was something wrong with me? Didn't they understand that I would know if I wasn't feeling well? What did they think I was, a hypochondriac? 

Take the last doctor I had seen. When he said he couldn't find anything, and I insisted I had a problem with my senses, he'd thrown his hands up in defeat and given me a referral to a doctor who, he assured me, could find the problem if anyone could. //If there even is a problem.// 

He didn't realize I had heard his snide remark, and was shocked when I growled at him as I stalked out of his office, "That's hardly professional of you, Doctor!" 

Because Dr. Simon Banks was the leading authority in strange and unusual diseases, I expected to have to wait months before I'd be able to see him. To my surprise and gratification, he had taken my call himself and made the appointment for the beginning of the following week, apologizing profusely that it couldn't be sooner. 

I had arrived a little early, and Dr. Banks had drawn blood, asked for a urine specimen, and run a battery of tests. He told me he was putting a rush on it, and the results would be compiled within the hour. 

Now I sat in Dr. Banks' waiting room... waiting. I'd been sitting there for more than two hours, and I knew Ms. Plummer would be ready to fire me because I'd be returning so late from my lunch hour. 

I was so scared; he was my last hope. If he couldn't tell me what was wrong, I might as well put my head between my legs and kiss my ass good-bye, because I didn't know where else to turn. I stared at a dust mote, not realizing that I was losing myself in the nooks and crevices that I could actually see. 

"Mr. Ellison. Mr. Ellison? _Mr. Ellison_!" 

The irritation in the voice finally broke through to me. I jumped and shook myself. "I'm sorry. What is it?" 

"Dr. Banks will see you now." 

I licked my lips and rose, and went into Dr. Banks' office. On the walls were diplomas from Johns Hopkins, Cedars-Mount Sinai, Walter Reed, the most prestigious hospitals in the country as well as the leading medical facilities in Great Britain, France and Germany. I was certain he would be able to tell me what was wrong with me. 

Simon Banks was a big, black man with a commanding presence. He stood before an illuminated square, intently studying the X-rays that were slotted into it. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Ellison. May I call you Jim?" Before I could tell him yes or no or fuck you very much, he went on. "You used to be in the police department, in Cascade, Washington. Am I correct, Jim?" 

"Well, yes. But I left the force eight years ago. What..." 

"Bear with me, Jim. What did you do on the force?" 

"I was in Major Crimes." 

"So you arrested murderers, chased drug dealers, maybe went undercover? Dangerous, rough stuff?" 

"That went with the job, Dr. Banks. I guarded the occasional visiting dignitary also. What does that have to say about anything? I used to be a cop; I'm not any more." 

He turned around to face me, and his face showed such concern that I tensed up. "I have the results of your tests, Jim." 

I swallowed, my mouth dry, my gut turning to water. Here it was. I gripped the seat of the chair I was sitting in so tightly I knew I'd leave fingerprints. "I'm losing my mind." I had to know. 

"No." 

"I have a tumor on the brain; that's why there's something wrong with my eyes, my hearing, my sense of taste." 

"No." 

I became annoyed. His expression told me there was something abnormal going on. "But my senses are so enhanced, Dr. Banks..." 

"Don't get me wrong, Jim. There is a problem. What you have wrong with you is very real... very rare... very destructive. Incurable, in fact. You have a brain cloud." 

"I... A _what_?" 

"A brain cloud. This is a black fog of tissue. There are no symptoms. As a matter of fact, you would never have been diagnosed with this if you hadn't been seeking an explanation for your enhanced senses." 

There was something wrong, and I was going to die. I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't even force out the words, 'How long?' 

But it was as if he knew what I had to ask. "You have about six months. It isn't painful, just... messy." 

"Dr. Banks, what's going to happen?" 

He sat down and folded his hands sedately on the desk before him. His eyes were dispassionate. "For the first four and a half to five months, everything will feel okay." 

"And after that time?" 

"Your brain will fail, followed by your body. You'll regress to infancy. You'll drool; you'll lose control of your bladder and bowels. As I said, messy." 

I felt myself turn pale. To be so out of control of my body, to be so helpless. I didn't think I could face that. "I'll become a goddamn vegetable!" I swallowed hard. "And then...?" 

"And then... pffft. You're dead. Of course, you can," he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, "get a second opinion." 

I scarcely paid any attention to his words. "I knew it. I didn't _know_ it, but... Oh, fuck. What am I gonna do?" 

"Jim. You have some time left. You have some life left. I suggest you live it well." He extended his hand to me. "Oh, and this visit isn't covered by your HMO. Pay the bill on your way out, please." 

I left the Medical League Building and began to walk, just walk, aimlessly. I was going to die. In six months, I will have left the planet. James Joseph Ellison was no longer going to be a viable member of the human race. 

It hit me with painful realization that I hadn't been a viable member of the human race for the past eight years. I had been so afraid of dying that I never stopped to think that from the moment we're born we begin to die. 

Wasn't it the lead singer of one of those acid rock bands who said, 'No one gets out of this life alive'? And then he'd died choking on someone else's vomit. No, wait a second, that was Eric 'Stumpy Joe' Childs, one of the many doomed drummers of Spinal Tap. 

Eventually I found myself back at American Panascope, walking the crooked path that led into the main building. I passed the little security booth with the guard who spent the day sound asleep. I went down the stairs to advertising. 

Ms. Plummer was waiting. She might have been an attractive woman if it hadn't been for the perpetual petulant sneer that twisted her lips. "Jim! You call this a lunch _hour_? You've been gone more than three hours!" 

"Three hours." I just stood there looking at her, thinking about it. "Yeah, that's about right." I licked my lips. "Listen, Ms. Plummer. Carolyn." She froze at my use of her first name. "I quit." 

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sandy sit up, his pale blue eyes enormous. Another regret, that I'd never asked him out. 

I went past him to my cubicle. Ms. Plummer followed me, sputtering in indignation. "You're quitting? Just like that? You can't do that!" 

"No? Watch me!" 

I regarded her with disinterest. Her cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of puce, and her mouth opened and shut futilely. She was doing a pretty fair imitation of a hooked fish. Finally she snarled, "Well, let me tell you, my friend, you'll be very easy to replace!" 

"You think I don't know that, Carolyn?" I yanked open a side drawer and stared down into its depths. "You think I don't know... I've been here for years, doing work that could have been done in five or six months. Wasted years, Carolyn. If I had them now..." I closed my hand as if I could retrieve them, hold them forever in my palm, then slammed the drawer shut. There was nothing I wanted in there. I unplugged my lamp, stroking the music box base. 

"Go on, if you're going! Get out!" Carolyn Plummer's voice was shrill. "We don't need your kind here! Talking crazy, giving people ideas!" 

I paused by Sandy's desk. He looked as if he was having trouble catching his breath. One of the things I'd learned as a cop was how to perform CPR. Oh, how I wanted to lay Sandy down on a flat surface and cover his mouth with mine. 

"Do you know, every morning I'd walk past your desk... You were the only thing that made this godawful place bearable. I'd come to work, and I could smell you, like a flower. I could taste you, like sugar on my tongue. I could hear the rustle of your clothes from that goddamned little broom closet that tries to pass itself off as an office. Oh, god, Sandy, did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you, I felt as if I had seen you before?" 

Sandy's eyes seemed to swallow his face. "Really, Jim?" 

I stroked his cheek. "And I never had the guts to ask you out. I let my life be ruled by yellow, freaking fear." I turned to Carolyn, who was staring at me as if I had sprouted a second head. "I was too chicken shit to live my life, so I sold it to you. You're lucky I don't..." I clenched my fists in an effort to control the anger that was boiling up inside me. 

"Get out, Jim!" She backed away from me, and I suddenly felt powerful. The woman who had been tormenting the life out of me, who had taken such pleasure in making my life miserable, was now terrified of me. "Get out! Before I call security!" 

The stink of terror rolled off her, overwhelming the scent of the perfume she always doused herself with. I was surprised Sandy didn't seem affected by it. "I'm going, Carolyn. I'm leaving you here in your cheap, three-piece Sears suit. You might want to eat a little more frequently, too. You look like a bag of bones! It's not healthy, and it's not attractive!" 

She scurried into her office and slammed the door behind her. 

"Wow!" Sandy exclaimed. "You are really intense!" 

I could hear the lock click as she threw the bolt. I could hear her pick up her phone. I could hear her whisper, "Security, we have a situation in Advertising! Send someone, send a _bunch_ of someones, _now_!" 

I took Sandy's hand and ran my thumb over his knuckles. "Will you have dinner with me?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Do you like Mexican food?" 

"Yeah!" 

"I'll meet you at the Casa del Buen Alimento on Hylan Avenue at seven, okay?" I smiled at him and placed the lamp gently on his desk. He had always liked it. "Here. I want you to have this, Chief." 

I was out the doors of Advertising when a couple of men in the grey uniforms of security came stalking toward me, their hands on their side arms, their expressions meant to be fierce, but looking like nothing so much as constipated bullfrogs. "There's a problem in there?" the bigger one asked, gesturing toward the department I had just left. 

I made my eyes wide. "I just came from there, and there was nothing wrong. I think I heard Ms. Plummer saying something about shaking up Security, because you guys had it dead easy." I leaned closer. "I've worked in law enforcement, guys. You men are the backbone of a place like this! She just doesn't realize how much guts it takes to be a security guard!" 

"It was a false report?" They traded glances, settled their holsters on their hips, and strode through the doors, intent on confronting my former supervisor. 

I might only have six months to live, but damn, I felt pretty fucking good. 

* * *

It was still early when I got home. I did a fast clean-up of the apartment and put my spare set of sheets on the bed. 

Well, I could dream, and I'd often dreamed of Sandy, although his face had been rather vague, and somehow I couldn't get past those layers of flannel that he always wore to imagine the body underneath. 

I showered and put on a nice suit, and then it was time to drive to the Mexican restaurant. I was looking forward to my date with Sandy. 

* * *

I scared him. 

I got him back to my dingy little apartment and pulled him into my arms. His lips were soft and warm under mine. I left those lush lips and wandered across his cheek to his ear. I took it between my teeth and tugged gently. The warmth of my breath made him shiver. I ran my hand down his torso to his crotch. His dick was hard, and it quivered under my touch. Sandy groaned and rocked his hips forward into the hard grip of my fingers, and he whispered raggedly, "You're so alive! What's happened to you?" 

Why did I say what I said? What possessed me to say, "I'm gonna die?" 

Sandy went still in my arms, and then pulled back. 

"Sandy..." 

The light in my apartment was dim, but I could see how pale he'd become. "You're gonna... Uh... I gotta go." 

I reached for him, and he flinched. My hands dropped to my sides. "Please don't." 

"I've got the job in the morning. You may have quit but... You're gonna die?" His voice rose to a squeak, and he backed further away from me. 

"Sandy..." 

"Oh, god, Jim. I do want you! There's nothing I want so much as to have you making love to me, but... I can't handle this! You're really going to...? I'm...I'm sorry!" The door slammed shut behind him. 

I stood there. The light from the moon came in through a gap in the curtains and glinted off the doorknob. It seemed to reach out and suck me in, and I fell down... down... down... 

There was the most annoying tapping, and the rhythm was so erratic that I couldn't hold on to it long enough to capture it and tear its tapping little heart out. I opened my eyes, stunned to see that it was morning. My knees had locked, my neck felt as if an iron bar was jammed through it to my spine, and my eyes felt so gritty I thought they were about to fall out of my head and roll around on the floor. 

"Mr. Ellison! Jim!" The tapping started again. 

I shook myself, trying to get everything to fall back into place, and went to the door. "Who are you, and what do you want?" I growled hoarsely. 

"Naomi Sandburg, Jim." The woman who stood there was a little over medium height, for a woman. She had reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, and she looked a little familiar, but I couldn't place her. She wore a black pin-stripe suit, with a slim skirt that flitted around her long legs. If I was into women, I might have been into her. 

She brushed past me into my apartment and looked around indifferently. "Oh, not a nice place, Jim." 

"I don't recall inviting you in, Ms. Sandburg. You see the door there. Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out." I stalked into the kitchen and began to make a pot of coffee. I filled the Mr. Coffee reservoir with water, then measured out the grounds. 

The sound of silk dragging across silk was loud in the room, and when I turned, she was sitting on my ratty couch, her legs crossed elegantly and her hands folded in her lap. 

Her lips parted in a smile that would have been at home on a shark, displaying perfect white teeth. "I've done quite a bit of research on you. Jim Ellison. Five years on the Cascade police force. You went from Narcotics to Vice to Major Crimes. You were Cop of the Year. You rescued two kids from a hostage situation that had gone south, then ran back and saved the third. And then... you quit the force and disappeared. Why, Jim? For the last eight years you've gone from one miserable, shitty job to another, and now... Now you've left another job." 

I'd heard the coffee finish dripping. "I think the coffee is ready, Ms. Sandburg. Would you like a cup?" I turned away from her and pulled a couple of cups down from the cabinet above the sink. They were dusty, and I used the tail of my shirt to wipe them out. "I can't believe you came here just to tell me my job choices have sucked, and, by the way, I have to agree with you there. How did you know I quit American Panascope?" 

She didn't answer. Instead, she said, "Does my name mean anything to you?" 

I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee. It was too hot, and I went to the fridge for the milk. As I opened the cap, the odor of milk gone bad almost overwhelmed me, and I started to gag. 

"Jim, are you all right?" Naomi Sandburg was beside me. 

"Sorry. This milk is awful!" 

She sniffed at it. "It smells fine to me." Before I could stop her, she took the container and poured a dollop into her own coffee. I waited for the inevitable reaction, but to my surprise, she sighed happily and resumed the thread of the conversation. 

"Jim, I am owner, president and CEO of Sandburg Enterprises. At this moment, my company dominates the world market in super conductors. Do you know anything about super conductors, Jim?" 

"Nope," I said shortly. "Can't say that I care, either." 

She frowned at me. "You don't seem to care about much, do you, Jim? That is not a healthy attitude to take. Maybe you should change your diet, become a vegetarian." 

"Huh?" 

"Never mind, that isn't what I came to see you about. I have a proposition for you. There's a mineral called chatarra that's elemental in the creation of super conductors. The only place on the face of the earth where you can find it now is on this little volcanic island in the Pacific, off the coast of Peru. According to legend, Isla del Volcan Repugnante was once a part of the mainland, but when the volcano erupted, it broke off, much as everyone thinks California is going to do one of these days, and drifted out to sea. The inhabitants of Volcan Repugnante are descendants of a band of Chopecs who were trapped on that spit of land." 

I stared at her and rubbed my short-cropped hair vigorously. "So?" 

She peered at me over her glasses. I wondered why she wore them. It was obvious, to me at least, that the lenses were plain glass. "The Chopecs believe in Sentinels, individuals who have enhanced senses. The sole purpose of a Sentinel is to protect the tribe, even going so far as to lay down his life if that should prove necessary." 

"Why are you telling me this?" 

She ignored my question. "Their last Sentinel vanished years ago, and now Volcan Repugnante is on the verge erupting once again, something it hasn't done in over a dozen generations. Incacha, the shaman, has meditated and communicated with his gods, and he has told his people that the only way for the island to be saved is for a Sentinel to throw himself into the volcano. But as I said, they have no Sentinel. However, Incacha has promised my company an unlimited supply of chatarra if I can provide him with such a man." 

"Yeah, so? What does this have to do with me?" 

Her gaze was shrewd. "You would be perfect for this, Jim." 

I stared at her in shock. "Hold on a second! You want _me_ to throw myself into an active volcano?" Clearly the woman had lost her mind. "Why would I want to do something so insane?" 

"Because once you had balls of solid steel! Because eight years ago you wouldn't have hesitated. And because I intend to make it worth your while. Listen to me, Jim. I'm going to give you the opportunity to live like a king and die like a man!" Ms. Sandburg opened her shoulder purse, reached in and pulled out a handful of plastic. She fanned out the rectangles, and I could read Visa, MasterCard, American Express. There was even a Discover Card. "All unlimited credit, Jim. All yours for the taking." 

"Again, I ask you why?" 

"Jim, you have no family." 

I did, but my father had refused to have anything more to do with me when he'd learned I was gay, and my brother, Stephen, followed along with whatever he said. 

"Families are a pain, anyway. I know, I have two sons who are such a... Well, that's neither here nor there. What do you say, Jim? I know you're going to die. Do you want to wait out the little time you have left here?" She saw my shock. "Oh, yes, I know you're going to die." 

"How...?" 

"I'm one of the wealthiest women on earth, Jim. Do you have any idea what it's like when people are willing to bend over and take it up the ass, just because they think I want them to? Whatever I say, whatever I want, people fall all over themselves to do my biding. That makes it very easy for me to find out things, not to mention getting things done. Now here. Take these." 

I looked at the credit cards that were in her hand. I really didn't have anything... anyone keeping me here. "If I agree, and that's a big 'if', Ms. Sandburg, what happens?" 

"Tomorrow you'll take a jet to LA. The next day you board a yacht, and then twenty days from today..." 

"I jump into a volcano." 

"Yes. Live like a king, die like a man. That's what I say. What do you say, Jim?" 

I thought about the last eight years, about the way my senses would go haywire, and all the money I'd blown on doctors who just couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I thought about the loneliness that had followed me from city to city. For a fleeting second I thought about Sandy... I thought about Sandy. 

"Yes. Okay, yes. I'll do it. But I want you to do something else for me." I scribbled down his name and handed her the slip of paper. "I want him taken care of. I want him to have the chance to get out of that pitiful excuse of a job and do something with his life, something that _he_ wants to do." 

"He might not carpe that old diem, you realize that, don't you?" 

I shrugged. "But at least he'll have the option." 

She took the paper and studied the name, then smiled, pulled out her cell phone and made a phone call. 

Once Sandy's future was assured, she folded the credit cards into my hand, back to the business at hand. "Your ticket will be waiting at the American Airlines counter, and you'll fly out of Kennedy at noon tomorrow. First class, of course. Someone will be waiting for you at LAX. Good luck, Jim, and godspeed." And she was gone. 

Well, I was committed. Or maybe it was that I _should_ be committed. 

I took the Yellow Pages down from a shelf, picked up my coffee cup, and sipped as I thumbed through it the phone book. Libraries. Light Bulbs. Lighting Consultants... Ah, Limousine Service. I pulled the phone to me and dialed. 

"Good morning, Acme Limousines," a cheerful voice on the other end announced. 

"I'd like to rent a limo. Do you take MasterCard?" 

Manhattan-Jim 

By the time the limo showed up at the front door, I had gone through the rooms of my apartment, trying to decide what I needed to pack. And then I pulled out the credit cards and looked at them in my palm, and decided that there was nothing that couldn't be replaced. I left it all. 

The toot of a horn alerted me to the fact that my ride was there. I closed the door behind me and locked it, and dropped the key off with Mrs. Caravelli, who lived in the basement apartment of the two-story house. 

Behind the wheel of a white limousine was a figure wearing a black driving cap. As I approached the car, the figure stepped out to open the passenger door for me, and a cascade of reddish-brown waves flowed to her shoulders. I was startled to realize my driver was a woman. 

"G'day, mate," she said in a lightly accented voice. "I'm Megan Connor, and I'll be your driver for today." She waited patiently until I climbed onto the rear seat, then leaned forward. I flinched away, and she glanced at me curiously. 

It was a reflexive movement; too often people came close to me, and the smell of the perfumes or mouth washes they used to mask the odor of their bodies or their breath were enough to make me pass out. I found myself relieved when her scent didn't overcome me. I smiled at her weakly, and her expression became thoughtful, but she said nothing about my odd reaction. 

She gestured to the interior of the limo. "There's a mini bar. You'll find a selection of beer, wine and designer water, and that little cabinet beside it is filled with an assortment of snacks, healthful and otherwise. If you need to talk to me, this switch will activate a speaker in the front of the car." I noticed there was a plexi-glass barrier between the front and rear sections of the luxurious vehicle. "Now, where can I take you, Mr. Ellison?" 

I stared at her blankly. "Um." I had lived in the most cosmopolitan city in the world for over four years, but I had never left Staten Island. "I think I'd like to go to Manhattan, please?" 

"You got it, mate!" She shut the door and returned behind the wheel, then put the limo in drive and effortlessly steered the powerful car to the bridge that would take us over the river. I could hear her singing softly, //I'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten Island, too...// She saw my smile in the rearview mirror and thumbed the intercomm. "Something tickle your funny bone?" she asked conversationally. 

"Not at all. I just thought that song was rather appropriate." 

"What song?" 

I was confused. "The one you were just singing, Ms. Connor." 

"You _heard_ me? Mr. Ellison, there's inch thick glass between us, and I was barely mouthing the words!" 

I hunched a shoulder defensively. "I could hear you." 

She pulled over to the side of the tree-lined street, parked, and joined me in the back seat. "All right, Mr. Ellison. Tell me what else you can do." 

"Well, I can tell that you hurt your wrist recently." For some reason I was willing to talk to her. "You've got a bandage on it, and I can hear it rubbing against the shirt you've got on. You usually wear some orange-ie-smelling perfume, but today you're not. And there's a cop who's headed this way, because it's alternate side of the street parking, and you're parked on the wrong side." 

Her head shot up at that and she peered in the direction I indicated. "I don't see a cop." But she returned to the front seat and drove off. Three blocks down we passed a cop who was diligently ticketing cars. 

"You believed me. Why?" 

She lowered the partition that separated us. "Say again, mate?" I repeated my question. "I think you're a Sentinel, Mr. Ellison. Someone with enhanced senses. The protector of the tribe." That's what Ms. Sandburg had insinuated. "They used heightened sight and hearing to guard their people against enemies, track game, things like that. Some of them could find water by scent. A _very_ few had all five senses online at the same time. Sentinels were highly valued members of their community. Needless to say, there aren't too many in this day and age." 

"How do you know about this, Ms. Connor?" 

"Please, call me Megan." She reached back awkwardly over her shoulder to shake my hand. 

I leaned forward to take hers. "I'm Jim." 

Her smile was warm, and for the first time in years, I felt... not safe, but... comforted. "I'm a Guide, Jim. It's the Guide's job to protect the protector. You see, Sentinels have a tendency to loose themselves in their senses, go into a zone, a white-out if you will, which can be very dangerous. So Guides keep them grounded, bring them back out of a zone. Each Sentinel has his or her own Guide. It's a system that worked. However, as the centuries progressed, there became less and less need for them, until now they're considered a myth, when they're considered at all." 

I felt hot and then cold. "Is that what's been wrong with me?" 

"You just lacked a Guide to show you the way. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you." 

That's what she thought. Still, my last days would be more endurable if I could control my senses. "Will... will you be my Guide?" 

"I can show you the way to go on, Jim. I can help you learn how to dial down your senses, piggyback them, but I'm already a Sentinel's Guide. I'm sorry." 

Not as sorry as I was. 

* * *

We spent the next few hours exploring the city while Megan taught me the basics of handling my senses. We went to the zoo in Central Park, and I learned to dial down my sense of smell. We visited the Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park, and I began to master my sight. We took the Circle Line Ferry for the sightseeing tour around Manhattan, along with a gaggle of school-aged kids, and I managed to get my hearing under control. 

Megan explained how things were between her and her Sentinel. "When I first came to the States, I was rather at loose ends. I had no idea what I wanted to do, but for some strange reason, I knew I had to be here in the States to do it. And then I met my Sentinel and everything fell so easily into place; we've been together ever since. Jordan works in the medical examiner's office. Her senses have enabled her to find clues that anyone else without them would have missed, even with today's advanced technology. It's hard on her sometimes, and there have been days when she'd come home so upset by what she'd seen that I was sure we were looking at major burn out. I've been able to help her overcome the effects of a really bad day." 

"You love her. You're both very lucky." 

She didn't understand why I was so subdued, when I should have been on top of the world. "It will be all right, Jim. When you find your Guide, or rather, when he finds you, you'll see." Her expression became rapt, and I wanted to rail at the gods in protest. She didn't know I had the threat of a brain cloud hanging over me, and in order to die on my own terms, I would be throwing myself into an active volcano in twenty days' time. "I tell you what, Jim. Let's go shopping! That always makes Jordie feel good!" 

Megan drove me to Giorgio Armani's, where I bought two different tuxedoes, one in black and one in white, and patent leather shoes to go with them. Next she chauffeured me to Alfred Dunhill, an exclusive men's shop, where I selected clothes that for once didn't feel like sandpaper on my skin, enough to last me twenty days, boxers and undershirts, dress shirts and trousers. Then we went to Horn of Africa, and I bought shoes and boots and sandals. I tried on sporting clothes, walking shorts, safari jackets and bush hats in a variety of colors, and I piled them into a patient salesclerk's arms as well. As with the other shops, there were no price tags visible anywhere. And I charged everything to Ms. Sandburg. 

"You've got enough to clothe a small country, Jim!" The woman who could not be my Guide chuckled. 

"Let me buy something for you, Megan." 

"Oh, no, that isn't necessary..." 

"Please. You've saved my..." well, not my life, but... "my sanity. Please. And something for Jordan, also." 

Her face lit up, and we walked down the street to a Victoria's Secret. Megan selected amethyst satin lounging pajamas for herself, and a camellia pink silk chemise with black lace inserts for her Sentinel. 

"All right, Jim," she said briskly as sales clerks helped us load my purchases into the limo. "I'm going to drop all these packages at your hotel. You're doing well enough that I can leave you alone for a bit." 

"Megan..." I could feel panic start to creep up my spine. 

"I have every confidence in you, mate. And besides, you're going to need some heavy-duty luggage to carry all this stuff, and I've got no more room in this limo! This place right next-door has some excellent steamer trunks. Why don't you take a look at them? I'll come back in about an hour and pick you up. Now tell me, what hotel are you staying at?" 

"I haven't chosen one yet. I'd like something really nice." I searched my mind for the name of a classy hotel. "The Plaza?" I could see from her expression that she didn't think much of my choice. "Well, then, Megan, where would you stay?" 

"If I wanted someplace really nice, then I would go to The Pierre." 

"Megan, I am going to be staying at the Pierre! Would you reserve a luxury suite for me, please?" 

She smiled and slapped my shoulder. "Fair dinkum, mate!" I watched a little forlornly as she got in the limo and drove down 5th Avenue until she was out of sight, amazed that I had no problem tracking her and pleased that I was able to do it so easily. 

I gave myself a little shake and entered Mark Cross. I was wearing one of the business suits that I had purchased, and it made me look as if I had enough money to shop in this store. The scent of fine leather threatened to overcome me, and I quickly dialed down my senses the way Megan had instructed me. 

A tall, quiet man in a hound's-tooth suit and bowtie approached me. "Are you well, sir? May I help you?" 

"Just give me a moment, please. The smell of the leather..." 

He smiled. "Yes. One of life's decadent pleasures, rather like the scent of a new Mercedes. It's one of the reasons why I love working in this store. Would you allow me to show you around, perhaps?" 

"Yes, please." I just needed something to put my clothes in, but I could see some interesting items scattered around the store, and the salesman saw my fascination with them. 

"Putting green." A six by six square of green felt with plastic cups. It came with a putter and a sleeve of a dozen golf balls. 

"Yes, I'll take it." 

He beamed and gestured to a stocky man with thinning hair. "Set this aside for us, would you please, Joe?" The man hurried to do as he was requested. 

"Violin case bar." He opened the finely-tooled leather case to display tiny, 50 ml bottles of whiskey, scotch, and gin, an atomizer that held vermouth for very dry martinis, and water, as well as a collapsible metal shot glass, a small jar of olives, and a slim, sterling silver case of toothpicks. 

I nodded and grinned at him. "That's fantastic! I'll take this too! It comes fully stocked?" 

"Of course!" 

"All right! What else have you got?" 

The pile of stuff grew larger and larger, things I most likely would never need in the three weeks I had left to me, but I'd never gone on a shopping spree like this before, and it kind of went to my head. 

"Swiss army knives." He laid out three different models. They contained everything from the actual blades to screwdrivers, wire strippers, a woodsaw and even a crotchet hook. 

I took all three of them, a Black Matte Forrester Torch Flame lighter, which came with a compass, a world-band travel radio and two brass Coleman lanterns. You never could tell when something like that would come in handy. 

"I think I'd like a new watch. Do you have any in this store?" 

"Do we have any watches?!" He led me to a discreet corner of the store. "If you'll take a seat?" There was a safe in the wall, and he threw the combination, being careful that I couldn't see. I stretched my hearing just a bit and was able to tell what the numbers were as the tumblers fell into place. Not that I would be returning to lighten their inventory, but it amused me to put my senses to a little test. 

"Here we are. This is an Audemars Piguet, with a John Schaeffer platinum minute repeater." I had no idea what that was, but I watched in fascination as he explained all its capabilities. "It will give you the time in every capital in the world, in both standard and military time, as well as their ambient temperatures. Waterproof, shockproof. It can withstand up to six gravities and has a homing devise that will insure you are never lost. The list price for this little beauty is $270,000." 

It was a good thing I was sitting down, because otherwise I would have fallen down. Before I could tell him I had no intention of paying that exorbitant sum, he handed it to me. "It's calling your name, sir. Try it on." He leaned closer. "I can give you a wonderful discount on this." 

The price he named was still five figures, but instead of assuring him that the watch wasn't exactly what I had in mind, I found myself strapping it to my wrist. 

I thought of the credit cards in my pocket, and the unlimited amount of credit they afforded me. In spite of all I'd already purchased, I'd hardly tapped into them. It was petty, but I wanted Ms. Sandburg to pay for her pound of my flesh. "Add it to the bill, I'm taking it!" 

"Yes, sir," he sighed happily. "Might I interest you in anything else, sir?" 

"A trunk!" The original reason why I'd come into this store. "I'm going to need a trunk!" 

He nodded. "Certainly. If you'll come this way?" I followed him through a set of recessed doors to a small, chapel-like room where various pieces of luggage were elegantly displayed. "Luggage is actually the central preoccupation of my life. You're away from home, away from your family; you have only yourself to rely on. Yourself, and your luggage." 

"Uh... yeah." I stepped back from him a little. He had suddenly become almost evangelical. 

"Tell me something, sir. Will you be traveling light or heavy?" 

I thought of everything Megan had taken to the Pierre, of all my additional purchases. "Heavy." I'd only need the stuff for about three weeks, but I'd have every comfort necessary to man. 

"Hmmm. And will you be ... flying?" 

"Well, I'm taking a plane, and then I'll be on a ship, which will take me to an island, and I don't really know what kind of accommodations I'll find there, if I'll have to live in a hut, or what." 

His eyes lit up, and his gaze grew avid. "So, a real journey! Very exciting, as a luggage problem. I believe I have exactly what's called for." He approached the rear of the room and pressed a button. I almost expected to hear a heavenly choir sing a verse or two of The Hallelujah Chorus. Two doors slid apart, to reveal a very large trunk. 

"This is our premier steamer trunk." He rolled the huge piece of luggage out and stroked a loving hand over its sides. "Completely hand made of only the highest quality materials! It's even watertight, so water-tight that it will float!" He unsnapped the locks and opened it, and I could barely catch my breath. "If I had the need, and the wherewithal, this would be my trunk of choice!" On one side were a series of drawers ranging from slim to quite deep. On the other was a space where clothes could be hung from wooden hangers. At the bottom were several pairs of shoetrees. There was even an ironing board that swung out. What really knocked my socks off was the fact that the lid had an additional compartment that could be accessed when the trunk was closed. And by moving a panel, a person was able to reach the contents of the trunk proper. 

"I'll take four of them!" 

He turned away. "Joe? Joe! I'll need four of these steamer trunks for Mr...?" 

"Ellison." 

"For Mr. Ellison." He gripped my hand and shook it enthusiastically. "May you live a thousand years, Mr. Ellison!" 

"Oh, uh, thank you. Same to you." I followed him to the cash register. He began to ring up the purchases, and when he told me the total, I gulped, unable to believe I had spent such an exorbitant amount in less than one hour, in just one store. I handed over a platinum credit card, wondering if Ms. Sandburg would be able to return any of these items after I was... when I was done with them. 

"Jim!" Megan sauntered into the store. "You about ready to go, mate?" 

"Just a second." I signed the receipt and offered the salesman his pen. 

"Oh, no, Mr. Ellison. Please, keep it! And have a very nice day!" 

"You too." I thought Megan's eyes would pop when she saw all the additional packages I'd managed to acquire in the time she'd been gone. Then she laughed and led the way out into the late afternoon sun. 

On the curb were the four steamer trunks, and I helped Joe tie them to the roof of the limo, then tipped him out of my own cash. 

"Okay, Megan, let's go." I got in the front seat beside her, and she eased the car into the rush hour traffic. 

"You're going to love your rooms! I booked a Presidential suite for you. It's got a beaut view of Central Park. I know you didn't need all that space, but..." 

"How much space?" I asked, not really paying attention. I was observing the denizens of Manhattan swarming over the sidewalks. Being able to control my vision was sheer joy. 

"It's thirteen hundred square feet." 

I started choking. "Jesus, Megan! That's bigger than my apartment on Staten Island!" 

She grinned. "Yeah. It's bonzer, ain't it, mate?" She continued chatting happily. "I got a call from my girl. She's been offered a position with the Boston M.E., and we'll be going back there. She's excited, although I don't know how her dad is going to take to me. He had his eye on some detective there for her." 

"If he has half a brain, he'll love you." I hesitated a minute. "Listen, Megan, would you like to have dinner with me?" 

"Oh, Jim. I can't. I promised Jordie I'd be home as soon as I got you settled at The Pierre." She pulled up in front of the hotel, and the doorman and bellboys came running out to help with all my purchases. "Isn't there anybody you can call?" 

I thought fleetingly of Sandy, then shook my head. "I guess there are certain times when you're not supposed to have anybody, certain doors you have to go through on your own." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. 

"I'm sorry I'm not the one who's your Guide, Jim." 

"Thank you. Thank you for helping me." Her image blurred, and I blinked furiously until my vision cleared. Megan was back in her limousine, waving a final farewell. 

I turned and went into the hotel. "Check-in is right this way, sir." As I crossed the noisy lobby, I realized that I wasn't overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells of the crowd of humanity; I had control of my senses! 

After I registered and took the keycard from the desk clerk, I rode up to my suite on the 39th floor, accompanied by numerous members of the hotel staff who seemed willing to bend over backward to grant my every wish. 

I sighed. The idea of bending someone over didn't even interest my dick. I tried thinking of Sandy, and it twitched, but then subsided, and I sighed again. Maybe I was just too tired. First a shower, I decided, and then I'd see what room service had to offer. 

As I stepped out of the shower, I heard the telephone ringing, and I wrapped a towel around me and went into the bedroom. I picked up the phone. "Yes?" 

"Mr. Ellison, this is Mr. Carlyle, the manager of The Pierre. If it would be convenient, I'd like very much to invite you to dine with me in the Cafe Pierre." 

"Well... well, thank you, Mr. Carlyle." I'd been growing more and more depressed at the thought of eating a solitary meal in my rooms the only night I would ever be in Manhattan. "I'd enjoy that!" 

"Excellent! Shall we say half an hour?" 

* * *

I stood in the entrance to the Cafe Pierre and gazed at the numerous diners who were dressed to the nines, relieved that I had chosen the tuxedo. 

"Mr. Ellison!" A nicely built man in his middle thirties, also wearing a dinner jacket, strode across the lush carpeting. "I'm so very pleased you could join me! Please, come this way." Set aside from the other tables, in a dimly lit alcove, was a small table set for two. 

We sat across from each other and he signaled the wine steward. After a brief discussion, he selected a wine and handed me a menu. 

"This is a very lovely hotel you have here, Mr. Carlyle." 

"Please, call me Marshall, and I shall call you James. And thank you, my staff and I work extremely hard to maintain its reputation as one of the world's finest hotels." 

"Well, you have succeeded." I opened the menu. "Um, what would you recommend, Marshall?" 

"Shall I order for you, James?" His glance summoned a waiter. "The hearts of palm salad for our appetizer, Charles. Then I think the chilled oyster Vichyssoise soup, followed by the pan seared saddle of rabbit served with fava beans." 

I couldn't help myself. "We aren't having a nice Chianti, are we?" 

The waiter bit his lips in an effort to stifle his laughter, but Marshall didn't seem amused. "Chianti? With rabbit? I do not think so!" 

My reference to Silence of the Lambs had gone right over his head. Here was an attractive man who had gone to the trouble of inviting me to dinner. I supposed it was too much to have hoped we'd share a sense of humor. For something to do while he completed the order, I studied the centerpiece of cream rose buds tipped with red. Nestled within the arrangement was a floating candle that cast a soft glow. 

The waiter hurried away, and Marshall turned his attention back to me. "So, James, tell me. Will you be staying in our fair city long?" 

"No." I wasn't about to confess that I'd been a resident of the city that never sleeps for the past four and a half years. "I'll be flying out of JFK tomorrow." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'd hoped to... Well, no matter. Perhaps the next time you're in town we can get together." 

"Perhaps." I also wasn't going to tell him there would never be a 'next time' for me. 

Our wine was poured, and then the waiter was bringing our appetizer, and we began to eat. Marshall was an entertaining dinner companion, and spoke of Broadway shows, concerts at Lincoln Center, and even the possibility of the Yankees taking home another pennant. 

Time passed pleasantly. Finally, Charles brought out a most intriguing desert and served it to us. The various tastes exploded over my tongue, and I closed my eyes in pleasure. "Oh, very good!" 

"This is peach clafouti with almond ice cream." 

"I thought clafouti was cherry flan." When my brother and I were children, Grace, my father's housekeeper, had often sought to expand our culinary horizons. 

"Ah. So you're familiar with it?" 

"I haven't had it in years, but yes, it was something my father's housekeeper made for us a few times." 

"How does this compare?" 

"There is no comparison. Grace was a marvelous cook, but your chef is a grand master!" 

"Yes, he is worth his weight in gold. And he demands it." He pushed his plate aside and reached for his coffee. 

"Tell me something, Marshall. Why did you invite me to dinner? I can't believe you do this for everyone who stays in your hotel." 

After sipping thoughtfully, he remarked, "I understand you're acquainted with Naomi Sandburg." 

"How did you find out about that?" 

"It's my business to keep abreast of these things. Actually, when we processed your credit card, we were quite impressed to learn that it belongs to one of the world's wealthiest women." I tensed, and he reached across the table to touch my hand. "No, I know you have authorization to use it. Please don't think I was questioning that. Ms. Sandburg stays here on occasion. She's a very valued guest, and anything we can do for her friends..." 

I finished my coffee. "Marshall, the next time I see Ms. Sandburg, I'll let her know how much I enjoyed my stay here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd like to go up to my suite." 

"Of course, James. And please remember, if there's anything my staff can do for you, they will be more than happy!" His voice lowered. "As will I." 

Was he volunteering to sleep with me? "Thank you, Marshall. I appreciate the offer, but it's been a long day, and I need to get some sleep. Good night, and thank you for dinner." 

I was almost at the entrance of the restaurant, but I still heard his whisper. "Pity. You are attractive, James Ellison!" 

* * *

The next morning, Megan called to let me know she'd pick me up at ten o'clock. I was checked out and waiting in the lobby when she arrived. She grinned broadly. "Morning, mate." 

"And a very good morning to you, Megan. Let's go. I'd hate to be late." 

"Not a chance! I always see my friends get where they need to be on time!" Just like that, she had given me the gift of friendship, and I wondered if she even realized how priceless that was to me. "Come on, boys, shake a leg!" She harried the bell captain and his cohorts in how she wanted the trunks placed on and in her limo. 

I tipped the men and slid into the front seat. There was no room in the back, even if I had wanted to sit there. 

"By the way, Jordie loved the nightie, Jim. She thanks you. I thank you, too." 

"I take it you had a good night?" 

"The best, mate. Almost makes up for the piss poor day my girl had. A child beaten and burned with cigarettes, and starved to death to exorcise the devil. Never mind, you can't want to hear about that. _I_ don't want to hear about that. Blows my mind, what some parents can do to their children in the name of love." I knew what she was talking about, having dealt with quite a bit of that when I was in Major Crimes. "How did you handle your senses last night and this morning?" 

I had no objection to the change of subject. I told her, and as she drove through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and onto the Belt Parkway with easy competence, she listened, offering some suggestions, but basically pleased that I seemed to have come to some kind of terms with my abilities. She pulled up in front of the American Airlines Terminal and whistled up some skycaps, who took one look at my trunks and called for back-up. 

"A final word of advice. You'll want to keep your senses on the QT. People tend to freak, y'know?" 

"Thank you, Megan. You've been a real friend." 

"Take care of yourself, Sentinel. I hope you find your Guide soon." She gripped my hand in a firm handshake, and then she got back into the limo and drove out of my life. 

I went into the first class passenger lounge to wait for my flight to begin boarding. 

Los Angeles-Jim 

I concluded that first class was the only way to fly. A very attentive flight attendant hovered over me, making sure I had a pillow, a blanket, headphones, whatever I might want. 

While I stretched out my legs, enjoying the spaciousness in first class, he approached me. "Mr. Ellison? I have a message for you from Naomi Sandburg!" 

//Dear Jim,// it read. 

//Hope you enjoyed your shopping spree yesterday, and I hope your stay at the Pierre was everything that Marshall Carlyle promised me it would be. He's a very competent manager. I reward competence. 

//Anyway, someone has been notified to meet you at the airport. He'll take you out to dinner and has instructions to amuse you in any manner you desire. Nothing too good for my hero, eh? 

//Tomorrow, he will meet you for breakfast, and then take you to the marina, and you'll start the final leg of your journey, aboard the pleasure yacht, Twiddle Dee. 

//Enjoy your stay in LaLa Land, Jim. 

//~ _NS_ ~// 

I glanced down at my lap. "'Amuse me in any manner I desire.' Sounds like she's offering me sex on top of everything else," I muttered to myself. "Think you're up to it?" There was no response from my dick, not even a quiver, and I sighed, wondering if I'd ever be able to get it up again. It abruptly occurred to me that in less than three weeks I wouldn't have to worry about it any more. 

The jet finally landed at LAX, and as a first class passenger, I was able to exit before everyone else. I walked out of the gate and into the terminal, searching for my driver. I was brought up short by the sight of a young man with shoulder-length red curls. I thought for a second that I recognized him, but then he turned. 

No. I didn't know him. 

He had a strange expression on his face, a combination of boredom and nervousness. He was dressed in a blindingly white suit that fit his compact body perfectly. In his hand was a placard that he was holding backwards. For some reason, I went to him and turned the placard around. It had my name on it. 

"I'm Jim Ellison," I told him. 

"Welcome to LA, Jim. It's a great town. It stinks, but it's a great town!" Blue eyes swept over me and settled on my mouth. "I'm BJ Sandburg." 

" _Sandburg_?" 

"Yeah. I'm the son of the woman who hired you." He licked his lips in what I imagine he thought was a sultry manner, but to me he just looked like a male version of Lolita. I almost expected him to start sucking on a lollipop. He huffed and frowned at me. "Are you ready to go?" 

"Um, my luggage?" 

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'm a flibbertigibbet." He cupped his mouth as if about to impart a secret. "Don't tell me anything; I'm very unreliable." His mouth curved down, and his lower lip thrust out. "I've booked you into the California Suite at the Peninsula Beverly Hills. It's a little on the small side, only eleven hundred square feet, but the bed is comfortable. And they keep the wet bar fully stocked." 

"You've stayed at the Peninsula?" We went to baggage claim and retrieved my trunks. He arranged to have them delivered to the hotel. 

"Just overnight. With a friend. You understand." His lashes lowered and then slowly rose until his eyes met mine, almost challenging. "Come on, Jim. I've made reservations for us at the Belvedere for a late lunch. We should get there... What?" 

I was staring at my Audemars Piguet, trying to figure the time. "Um, BJ, I left New York five hours ago. It's ..." 

"It's three now, Jim. Time difference, remember? Normally the Belvedere doesn't open for lunch, but there are some advantages to being Naomi's son." He winked and tipped his head. "If you'll follow me?" 

BJ strolled out into the bright afternoon sun, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. Parked in a No Parking zone was a candy apple red, 1968 Mustang 500 GT. "Oh, my god!" I almost had an orgasm just looking at her. The convertible top was down, and he sat on the door and swung his legs over and into what was every teenage boy's wet dream. I ran reverent hands over the passenger door, then opened it and stared at the butter-soft, white leather interior. 

"Let's go, Jim. Time's a-wastin', and the Dungeness crab I ordered will be feeling lonely!" Clearly, he was tickled by my reaction to the classic sports car. "She's a 'puff!" he stated proudly. 

"Original or restored?" I lowered myself carefully into the bucket seat and automatically reached for the seat belt, but there was none. 

"Original, Jim. She's even got an 8-track tape deck." 

"Too bad you can't find the tapes any more." There was a four-speed stick on the floor, and I was entranced by it. 

"Wanna bet, big guy?" BJ leaned over, hit the glove compartment, and a pile of tapes spilled out. 

I reached for one, The Righteous Brothers, Soul and Inspiration. I hadn't even known that had been released on 8-track! "Don't tell me... 'When you're Naomi Sandburg's kid...'" 

"Yeah. It's..." he glanced down at the tape in my hand and grinned saucily, "... righteous!" 

There were four hundred and fifty horses under that hood, and when he turned the key in the ignition, the engine growled to life. He popped the clutch and left a trail of rubber behind us, speeding out of the airport and heading us toward the hotel. 

* * *

The maitre d' seated us at a table. I was startled by the hostility in his gaze. "Um, BJ, maybe it wasn't a good idea to make them open this restaurant just for us." The place was deserted. 

He shrugged. "Naomi said to make sure you had the best. The food here is the best. Don't pay any mind to Adam. He gets pissy sometimes." 

"Adam?" 

The maitre d' was back beside us with our drinks, a beer for me and something fruity and frozen for BJ. The young man across the table from me flirted his lashes at the maitre d'. "Adam. He's a... friend." 

Adam scowled at him, turned the scowl on me, and then stalked away, and this time I wasn't the only one able to hear what he was saying. " _Ex_ -friend, _ex_ -lover! If he thinks he can flaunt his affairs in front of my nose..." 

"I think your friend is a little miffed with you." 

For a second he looked desolate. Then he wiped his face clear of all expression. "He'll get over it." He took a sterling silver cigarette case from his inner pocket and selected a long, slim cigarette. "Care for one, Jim? They're Egyptian; unfiltered. They're all I've smoked since I saw Mary Astor smoke them in The Maltese Falcon when I was twelve." 

"Those will kill you," I frowned disapprovingly. Jesus, I felt as if I was scolding my child. 

BJ grinned at me. "If it's not this, it'll just be something else, Jim." He lit an end and blew a stream of smoke into the air, then inhaled again and let the smoke dribble from his nostrils. "Do you like the decor in this place?" He waved his hand to indicate framed cels of what looked like comic book artwork. His expansive movement left a scattering of ash across the pristine whiteness of the tablecloth. "I did them. I'm an artist. And a poet." 

"Really?" 

"Want to hear one of my poems?" He didn't wait. "'Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my hand.'" 

From behind me came a choked gasp. "You said that poem was for me! You promised no one..." 

I turned in my seat to see the maitre d' storm away. When I glanced back at BJ, he was pale. "Shit!" The word was spoken so softly that, even as close as I was to him, without my sentinel hearing, I never would have heard it. 

"I'm... I'm impressed, BJ. Your mother must be very proud of you." 

"Must she? Obviously you don't know her very well. What other mother would name her son after a sexual act?" He stabbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and took a gulp of his drink. "Nothing I do makes Naomi proud. She'd be the first to tell you I'm a flibbertigibbet." Again he repeated the epithet, and it was as if it was something he was used to hearing repeated, used to having directed at him. His lips stretched in a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's all I am. Ah, the food is here. I ordered for you too, Jim. Dungeness crab! Looks like a little monster, doesn't it? But it's a _good_ little monster!" 

A waiter set down the platter, the huge crustacean almost spilling off it. He placed my dish in front of me. "And for you, sir, the sea scallops with three caviars." 

"Oh, er, thank you." I began to eat, flinching as BJ viciously wielded a wooden mallet to break the crab shell and get at the sweet, white meat. 

"I will be your server for the remainder of your meal, gentlemen," the waiter said softly as he refilled our water glasses. "M. Adam has been called away." 

BJ's head shot up. "Is he... is he all right, Raymonde?" 

The waiter's eyes were chill. "He will be, once he rids himself of an annoying little douleur dans l'ane!" He picked up our empty glasses. "I will return with fresh drinks." 

* * *

BJ was quiet after that, saying little, alternating a bite of seafood with a puff on his ever-present cigarette. Once we finished eating, he suggested a drive around Beverly Hills. We eventually wound up at the beach so we could watch the sunset. The sky changed colors and gradually darkened, and I watched in fascination. 

Beside me, BJ whispered under his breath, "'Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my hand.'" He clenched his fingers tightly, as if capturing those strands of hair. "Fuck. Tell me something, James." He lit another cigarette. "Do you ever think about killing yourself?" 

" _No_!" My reaction was too abrupt, too vehement. After all, in effect, wasn't that what I would be doing in twenty... nineteen days? "You can't... You're not thinking of doing that, are you?" 

"Why shouldn't I?" 

"BJ, some things take care of themselves; they're not your job!" 

His mouth tightened and he looked stubbornly away. "You know why my artwork is on the walls of the Belvedere, Jim? Because my mother paid them to hang it there! I'm a grown man, and I live on my mother's money." 

"Then don't." 

"What? Stop taking Naomi's money?" 

"See, you know what you need to do! Take the leap, and do the thing you're scared of doing. But you don't want to kill yourself!" 

His breath hitched. "Are you sure you've never lived in California, Jim? That's a typical California conversation if ever I heard one!" I recoiled from his harsh tone of voice. "It's all bullshit and lies, and *//it doesn't cost you anything!//*" He stared at the ocean. I could feel his silent struggle to bring his emotions under control once more. 

I reached out to touch his hair, then withdrew my hand. For a long moment I stared at the breakers that rolled gently into the shore. "I'm very troubled. I'm not ready to..." My thoughts became disjointed, but I tried to explain. "There's only so much time, BJ... If I use it well..." I took a deep breath. "I don't want to throw it away." 

"I have no response to that." BJ's voice was brittle. 

"I think you'd better take me back to my hotel, please." 

He drove me back to the Peninsula Beverly Hills, each of us lost in our thoughts. When he pulled the Mustang under the arched colonnade, he cleared his throat. "Do you want me to come up? I can come up with you." 

"No, BJ. Thank you, but no." 

He drew in a breath. "Will you meet me for breakfast?" 

"Sure." 

I was on the curb before he glanced in my direction. "I told you I was a flibbertigibbet." The look in his eyes was heartbreaking. 

"BJ!" 

"Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. Goodnight, Jim." The red taillights of the Mustang grew smaller and smaller until they vanished from even my Sentinel sight. 

* * *

Los Angeles-BJ 

I had gone to school with the son of the man who managed the Peninsula Beverly Hills. He remembered my artwork and mentioned it to his father, who in turn got in touch with me. 

"I'm looking for something a little different to hang on the walls of the Belvedere, BJ. Why don't you stop by tomorrow and bring some of your work. If it's suitable, I'd like to buy some of it." 

I was thrilled. I was even more thrilled to find Naomi at home when I came down to eat dinner. "Mom!" I bussed her cheek. 

"Please, BJ. _Naomi_! What are you so happy about?" 

"Mr. Summerlin is interested in seeing my work!" 

"What work, BJ?" she asked absently as she helped herself to some bouillabaisse from the silver tureen. 

"My... my cartoon cels, Naomi." 

"Are you still playing at being an artist? Pass me the baguettes, please. Hmm. Perhaps I'll go along with you." 

I didn't have a good feeling about that. "Oh, you really don't need to come, Naomi. I can..." 

"Nonsense. I'll go with you, and that's all there is to that." 

That was why Naomi was in the manager's office that day, actually dickering with him over what it would cost her to have my artwork hung on the walls of the Belvedere, the Peninsula Beverly Hills' posh restaurant. And I would never know if instead of paying Mr. Summerlin to hang my artwork, he would have paid me. 

* * *

That was the day I met Adam, the youngest maitre d' in the Belvedere's history, and the best. He wasn't even supposed to be there. He had the day off, but he had left something or other behind the night before and had just stopped by to pick it up. 

"Hey, Raymonde!" I heard him call to one of the waiters who were getting the tables ready for the dinner crowd. "Who belongs to that Mustang outside?" 

I grinned approvingly. A man who knew how it worked. You didn't own a Mustang, it owned you. "That would be me." I pushed myself up from the archway I'd been leaning against. "I'm BJ." 

"Hello, BJ." His hand was warm and firm in mine as I shook it. "I'm Adam Carter." He was average height, with thick brown hair that was tied back at the nape of his neck, and eyes that were so dark a grey, they were just a few shades lighter than black. 

"So. You want to go for a ride... in my 'Stang?" 

Adam's eyes grew hot and eager, and he tossed a fleeting good-bye over his shoulder to his fellow worker; it wasn't until some time later that I learned he was actually the man's boss. He followed me out to the candy apple red convertible, and I showed him how she maneuvered. And then I drove to a motel I knew of and showed him how I maneuvered. 

It didn't mean anything to me. It was fun, but it was just a fuck. That was the way it was. 

"Beej, do you have to go?" 

I was buttoning my shirt. "I left Naomi at the hotel. She's going to throw a hissy if I'm not back to take her home." She really wouldn't care, would most likely charm Mr. Summerlin into giving her a lift, but if Adam thought I had previous commitments, it would make it easier for me to leave. 

"Will I see you again?" 

I was tucking my shirt into my trousers, and froze. "I'm a flibbertigibbet, Adam. You want to see me again? Why?" 

"Because you're cute, BJ. Because I like the way you handled that cherry Mustang. And because I like the way you handled me. Come on, rich boy. Take a gamble. Say yes." Adam got up and approached me, and I watched him warily but didn't move. He slid his arms around my waist and thrust lazily against me, teasing my groin with his. The smile on his lips was tantalizing. 

"I never gamble." The smile left his face. I fisted my hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to mine. But when our lips were just a whisper apart, I said, "Yes." 

* * *

Seeing Adam didn't stop me from fucking other people, but Adam didn't seem to mind. I'd made it quite clear that if he ever got clingy, I was out the door. I never went to his place, and I never took him home. 

Only somehow, without my quite realizing it, I saw fewer and fewer other people. When it suddenly hit me that I was in a 'relationship,' I panicked and determined to break up with him. 

I told him to meet me at a little B&B up in Carmel. It would be one final rendezvous. I kept at him all night, until we both fell into an exhausted doze. Morning sunlight in my eyes woke me, and I rolled over to see that he was still asleep, his soft, thick hair spilling across his cheek. Unaware of what I was doing, I reached out to stroke the strands, and it was almost as if they wrapped themselves around my fingers. I found myself saying, "Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my hand." 

"Mmm. Nice, Beej." His voice was thick with sleep. I hadn't realized he had awakened, and when I would have jerked my hand away, he pressed his cheek into my palm and sighed contentedly, the warmth of his breath tickling it. "Who said that?" 

I licked my lips. "I did." I braced myself, expecting him to mock me. It was what Naomi often did. 

"You made that up? For me? Ohhh!" He pulled my mouth down for a hungry kiss. 

I decided maybe I wouldn't break up with him just yet. I raised my head and looked into his eyes. "Just for you, Adam." 

* * *

Talking about suicide and then tearing into Jim Ellison as if it was his fault that I was a flibbertigibbet and that my life was a waste... I didn't know what possessed me to get all maudlin like that. 

Yes, I did know. I was showing off, playing the literary elitist. I didn't want Jim, but I wanted to impress him. If I impressed him, and he told Naomi, maybe she'd... 

Love me? 

I'd learned years ago to keep my feelings deep inside where they couldn't get trampled on. I'd never even told Adam that I... 

So I recited that stupid poem, and Adam overheard me. I'd wondered how much he would take before he left me. Now I knew. And I wondered how long it would take before my heart stopped hurting. 

When I'd dropped Jim off at his hotel, I'd offered to sleep with him, hoping another body would ease the pain. He'd turned me down. 

* * *

It was a little after 9 when I met Jim in the Roof Garden, the Peninsula's more casual dining spot, which offered breakfast. He had already taken a table, and he sat watching the couple who was taking advantage of the early hour to frolic in the nearby lap pool. 

I took the opportunity to examine his attire. He was wearing a khaki safari jacket. On the chair beside him was a bushman's hat that sported a jaunty foxtail curled around its brim. His ensemble was completed by walking shorts and half boots. People tended to dress as they chose in California. He wouldn't draw a second glance. 

Jim smiled when he saw me approaching. I stiffened my spine, striving for insouciance. I owed him an apology. "I'm sorry I was so grotesque last night." 

He waved aside my apology. "Good morning, BJ. I hope you had a good night's rest. I sat on the beach and counted stars, and listened to the waves on the shore." 

I'd spent the night wandering through the empty rooms of Naomi's mansion, fighting the urge to call Adam and beg him to give me another chance. Finally, a couple of hours before dawn, I'd surrendered to it. "Adam, it's..." I was talking to his answering machine. "Where are you?" Had he already found someone else? Raymonde, perhaps, who'd never made any bones about his feelings for Adam? "It's BJ. I'm sorry. I know I screwed up. I've treated you badly, and you never deserved that from me or from anyone. Adam, please, I'd like another chance. Please call me..." I hung up before my voice could crack. 

He hadn't called, and I wanted to kick myself for begging. 

I dropped into the chair opposite Jim and picked up the menu, hiding behind it. "I had a generally shitty night. Thank you for asking." 

He took it from me, and I had no choice but to look into his ice blue eyes. "I've already ordered. Since you did the honors yesterday, I took the liberty of doing so today. I hope you like what I've selected." The waiter, not Raymonde who only worked in the main restaurant, thank god, began serving our breakfast. "I feel so alive today. Who would think..." He lapsed into silence, and his expression became sad. 

"I wish..." 

"What do you wish, BJ?" 

I shook my head. "It isn't important." I touched the tip of my tongue to my upper lip. "What did Naomi hire you to do?" He seemed reluctant to tell me, and I knew it was useless to press for the information. "Never mind." We finished eating in silence. "Oh, damn! What time is it?" I took his wrist and turned it so I could see his watch. "You've got an Audemars Piguet! Aren't they fantastic?" 

"If I could figure out how to tell time on it!" he groused. 

"Maybe Blair can show you how. We've got to go! Are you all packed?" 

"I didn't really *un*pack. The people at the front desk seemed to know where my trunks needed to be sent." He finished his coffee and rose. "Who's Blair?" 

I placed a handful of bills on the table. "My brother. I'll bet _he_ knows what Naomi wants you to do." 

"You have a brother?" We entered the elevator and rode down to the lobby. 

"Well, _half_ -brother. Naomi insisted that all the men she married take her last name, and since she's got more money than god, of course they all agreed. Blair's a couple of years older than I am. We don't see much of each other. The Sandburgs are not a very close family." 

"That's sad." Before I could snap that I didn't need his pity, he continued. "My family is like that too. I haven't seen my father and brother in more than... jesus, more than ten years!" 

I had no response to that. We walked through the lobby and out into the California sun. A valet parking attendant brought the Mustang around and I drove to the marina where Blair would be waiting to take Jim to wherever he was supposed to take him. 

* * *

My brother had long since escaped from our mother's influence. I envied him his freedom, and I wondered what Naomi had used to 'persuade' him to take on this task for her. I didn't think I would ever know. Sandburgs weren't what you would call 'close.' 

It was so early in the morning on a weekday that the marina was empty for the most part. The beautiful white yacht rode gently at her mooring while two men wrestled Jim's trunks below deck. Blair sat by the helm, one foot up on the railing. A light breeze was blowing off the land, and it teased my brother's hair back away from his face. 

"Hello, Blair." 

"BJ." He frowned disapprovingly as he watched me take a cigarette from my case and light it. 

"Do you know where Naomi is?" "Have you seen Naomi?" We spoke at the same time. 

Blair bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Mom loves a secret almost as much as she loves money." His eyes ran over the figure of the man standing next to me. I knew him well enough to see the sudden interest in his eyes, but I was startled by his rancorous words. "That outfit's wearing you, Felix!" 

"Why are you calling me Felix?" 

"I do what I want," Blair snapped. "And that's a fucking silly hat you've got on!" 

Jim's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something equally spiteful, but I cut him off. "You know Naomi, Blair," I drawled. "It's all phone calls and telegrams. I haven't seen her in nine months." 

"Nine months to birth you, nine months between visits. Coincidence? With Naomi, who knows?" No one could do mockery like a Sandburg, and my brother was definitely a Sandburg. 

"You're in a mood. What crawled up your ass and died?" 

"It's the sunshine, BJ. It gets me down." He rose to his feet and crossed to the gangway, and stared at Jim, his stance aggressive. "Listen up. I don't work for Naomi. This transport is strictly a favor." He ran his eyes over Jim's figure disdainfully. "Okay, get ready to heave, Felix!" 

Jim's gaze was cold, his voice flat. "My name is James or Jim." 

"All right, Jim." Blair's eyes were just as cold, and I wondered why he was taking out his ire on someone to whom he was attracted. What was he doing? _I_ was the Sandburg who threw away the main chance. "Come aboard. If we want to catch the tide, we'll have to cast off now. H, hoist the mainsail. Joel, get ready to raise the anchor." 

Jim swallowed heavily and turned to take my hand. "Wish me luck?" 

"You're shaking!" 

"Am I?" He took a couple of deep breaths. "Don't let life pass you by, BJ. Grab it with both hands and wring every drop of happiness you can from it!" He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Good-bye." 

"Good-bye, Jim," I whispered. I flicked my cigarette into the harbor and watched as he stepped onto the gangplank and boarded the Tweedle Dee. He walked to the rail amidships, and I raised my hand in farewell. Jim took the bushman's hat off his head and waved it back at me. His arm lowered, and he stared at the hat for a long second before flinging it into the yacht's wake. It floated on the surface of the water, rocking gently, and then it slowly sank. 

My brother stood at the wheel, his body angled so he could see me. His eyes seemed to be on something beyond me, and then they dropped to mine, and he smiled and shouted something at me. 

"What?" I shouted back. The wind whipped his words back at him. " _What_?" 

"He said, 'You have company.'" 

I stiffened. "Adam," I breathed. I turned to face him. "How did you know where to find me?" 

"I called your house, pretending to be someone from the hotel. It was a lead pipe cinch." He stared into my eyes dispassionately. "Did you mean it, about wanting a second chance?" 

I remembered what Jim said about grabbing onto happiness with both hands. "Yes." 

"Beej, you broke my heart yesterday." 

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise." 

"Don't you want to know where I was last night when you called?" 

I opened my cigarette case and took out another cigarette, and placed it between my lips. "It doesn't matter." 

"No? Not even if I was in someone else's bed?" 

"Not even that." My hand was shaking so hard I couldn't get the lighter to ignite the wick. 

"You're lying." He took the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it into the water. 

"Fuck it, I smoke too much anyway." I stuffed the lighter into my pocket. 

"Yes, you do. So. Are you going to ask if I was sleeping with someone else?" 

The pain was almost unbearable, and I closed my eyes against it. "No. Whatever you did last night, it was my fault. If you give me another chance, I swear I'll... Will you give me another chance, Adam?" 

"Are you asking me to forgive you?" 

I couldn't face him, waiting for his answer. I looked out to sea, where the Tweedle Dee's sails billowed, and she ran before the wind. "Yes." 

"All right." 

"What?" I spun around. It couldn't be that easy. Nothing in my life was that easy. 

"You asked me to forgive you." He shrugged, and his lips curved into a lightly mocking grin. "I forgive you." 

"Will you..." 

"I already said I'd forgive you." He scowled. "I'd think you'd realize that would mean I'd be taking you back as well." 

"No, Adam. I was going to ask if you would move in with me." 

His breath caught in his throat, and he turned pale, clearly not expecting that. "BJ, you really want me to... What's your mother going to say?" 

"Do you really think she'll care? You know she thinks I'm a flibberti..." The rest of the word was cut off by his mouth. With a sigh I sank into his kiss. I buried my fingers in his hair, the strands filling the emptiness of my hands. 

Finally, he pulled his lips away, and we struggled to calm our breathing. "She's wrong. You're not." 

"Adam..." 

He kissed me again. "Shut up, BJ. If you're serious about me moving in with you, I'm going to need to pack. Why don't you take me home, and I'll show you my bedroom. Which, by the way, is where I was last night when you called. All alone." 

"But you didn't pick up." 

"Beej, I was pissed at you. And I wanted to make you suffer a little." 

"You succeeded." I leaned my forehead against his for a brief moment, and then we started to walk to the other side of the dock where my Mustang was parked. 

"You ever going to let me drive her?" 

"I _so_ don't think so!" I looked back out over the ocean, and the sun glinted off a bit of glass, undoubtedly my brother's telescope. I raised my hand in one last farewell, and then let it drop around my lover's shoulder. "Let's go, Adam." 

* * *

The Tweedle Dee-Jim 

I stood at the rail of the sailboat and watched as the California coastline began to recede. In Hawaii, when you left, you threw a lei in the water. If it floated back to land it meant you'd return. I didn't have a lei, but I had the hat that Blair Sandburg had made fun of. I tossed it into the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. It sank quickly, and I sighed. What had I expected? I would never return. 

"BJ!" his brother yelled, startling me, and I hurried to dial down my hearing. "You've got company!" 

"What?" The wind carried his voice to us. 

" _You've got company_!" But it was obvious the young man on the pier couldn't hear him. Blair lowered the telescope he'd had to his eye and was smiling, and I caught my breath. The sullen expression was gone. His dark blue eyes were warm, and the wind blew his sun-streaked hair about his face. My dick chose that moment to rise from the dead. For a moment I was certain I had seen him somewhere before. Blair looked toward me, and his expression sobered. "Would you like to go below deck, Jim, and get settled in?" I nodded, pleased we would be in close quarters together, but then he continued, "Joel, will you take Jim to his cabin, please?" 

"Sure thing, boss." The big, black man walked toward me. 

"Jim." There was something about Blair's voice that made my dick even harder, and I shifted as unobtrusively as possible. Much to my relief, he didn't seem to notice. After all, how embarrassing would that be, sporting wood like a randy teenager? "First night out is always formal. Do you have a tux?" 

"I have a tux." 

I heard his softly whispered, "Why aren't I surprised?" And had to hide my grin at his disgruntled tone. 

So, apparently did Joel. He was grinning as he crossed the deck to the wheelhouse. "This way, Mr. Ellison." 

"Please, call me Jim." I followed Joel down the stairs to the companionway that led to my cabin. 

"Jim." He threw open the door and ushered me in. "The VIP cabin," he said with some pride. It was a big room even for this size boat, furnished with a queen berth, a leather settee, built in bookshelves and a desk, and plenty of stowage. There was even room for one of my trunks, which had already been placed over to the side. "This cabin has a private head, which is right through here. If you need anything from your other trunks, just let Henri or me know. We usually sleep up on deck unless the weather is really bad." Joel saw my look of concern and shook his head. "Bad storms aren't too likely, we're almost out of the typhoon season." 

I relaxed. "And where does the... uh... captain sleep?" 

Joel looked intrigued. "Blair's in the starboard cabin." But he didn't ask me why I was interested in where the younger man slept. Instead, he showed me how to work the lights and the plumbing in the luxurious head that adjoined my stateroom. 

I nodded my understanding and couldn't prevent a sudden yawn. The lack of sleep the night before was starting to catch up with me. 

"You look tired, Jim. Why don't you get some rest? One of us will come get you when it's time for dinner." His smile was a slash of white in his dark face. "I think you're going to enjoy sailing on the Tweedle Dee." He shut my cabin door, and I heard his footsteps going up the stairs and then across the deck. 

I visited the head and played with the fixtures for a couple of minutes, then unpacked, my thoughts tangling around Blair Sandburg, his curly brown hair and blue, blue eyes, those lush lips. I bit back a moan. They would look so good wrapped around my dick, not to mention how they would feel. 

Fuck it. Who was I trying to kid? A young man as gorgeous as that, he had to have a string of lovers, male or female, maybe both, just waiting for him to return to port. What would he want with a beat-up ex-cop like me? 

I lay down on my berth. It was covered with a soft, down-filled comforter that carried the scent of ocean breezes. I turned onto my stomach, cuddled a pillow in my arms, and immediately fell asleep. 

* * *

In spite of the fact that the smoking mountain was miles away, I could feel the ground shake and tremble beneath feet that were tipped with deadly, retractable claws. The volcano wasn't important, however. Finding my Guide was. I ran through the rainforest on four legs that were covered in black fur. 

The volcano rumbled, its tip glowing a sullen red, and then with unrestrained fury, it erupted. Molten lava spewed out, deadly gases polluted the air, and boulders the size of tanks were flung with careless abandon high into the air to fall with vicious force to the ground below. 

I yowled in protest, flattened my body closer to the ground, and raced on as burning embers ignited my coat. 

Somewhere up ahead was my Guide, I was certain of it. Trees had begun to topple from the resulting earth tremors, and the forest shrieked an imprecation to the heavens as it was torn apart. I twisted and dodged and tried desperately to evade the falling, burning trees. And then I zigged when I should have zagged. A tree crashed down on me, pinning me to the forest floor, and the world went from bright red to black. 

I regained my senses almost immediately, to find myself awash in pain and being dragged out from under the tree with jerky, sporadic movements. Strong teeth were sunk in the skin of my neck, and an act that under other circumstances would have been erotic, was now a matter of desperation. Once he had me away from the circle of blazing branches, the wolf began nudging my body with his head. //Up! You must get up!// 

//I can't. I can't move my legs! // 

//You have to!// 

//My back is broken.// 

//Noooo!// 

//You have to go. You can't save me!// 

The deep blue eyes of the wolf stared into mine. Instead of running away to save himself, he lay down beside me gently, his thick fur caressing my side, which heaved with erratic pants. I was almost overcome by the smell of sulfur. Ash descended, falling like fouled, tainted snow. //I will not leave you.// No one had done that for me before, been willing to die with me. He licked my muzzle, then rested his head on my neck, and we closed our eyes, waiting for the end to overtake us. 

* * *

I woke up with a start, covered in clammy sweat, so relieved to find it was just a nightmare that I didn't stop to wonder about panthers and wolves, and why the wolf in my dream had blue eyes. 

There was a tap on my door. "Jim, Blair said to let you know dinner will be ready soon. Oh, and he also said to remind you to wear your tux." 

I recognized the voice. "Thanks, Joel. I wasn't going to forget. I'll just take a quick shower, and then I'll be right along." 

"Okay, Jim." I heard him as he turned to leave, singing softly under his breath. "'Down the way where the men are gay, and the sun shines daily on the mountain top...'" 

I stifled my laughter; he would have wondered what I found so funny, and I could hardly explain that I'd actually been able to hear him. I heard Blair holler, "Joel, I want you to lower the mizzenmast. We're putting to for the night!" I listened to the sounds as Joel bounded up the stairs to the main deck and then hurried aft. I could hear the creak of the winch as the rigging was lowered, and the muted splash as the anchor was dropped. 

The light that came in through the porthole was fading and growing dim, and I rolled off the berth. After laying out the tux and some clean underclothes, I went into the head to wash the miasma of that nightmare from my body. 

I began to look forward to dinner with the captain. So sue me; I always had a soft spot for a sailor. 

* * *

The Tweedle Dee-Blair 

Naomi Sandburg had two yachts, E-I-E-I-O. 

Sorry. Poor joke. 

The Tweedle Dum was a hundred and fifty feet of sheer, unadulterated beauty and decadence. Her maximum speed was fourteen and a half knots, which wasn't too shabby in anyone's books. She could accommodate twelve people in the utmost comfort, and there were four cabins just to house the crew. She had a Jacuzzi and a Turkish bath, a fully appointed galley, and a sixty-inch large screen TV, as well as heads for each of the five guest cabins. More than twice as large as her sister ship, she was used by my mother when she wanted to impress potential clients. Otherwise, the Tweedle Dum rode at her anchor in the marina and had her bottom scraped periodically. 

And then there was the Tweedle Dee. I loved that boat. She was the first one I'd ever skippered all by myself. Naomi had promised her to me, had been promising her to me since the year I'd turned twenty. She was sixty-three feet from stem to stern, a pipsqueak in comparison to the Tweedle Dum. Aside from the master's cabin, there was one other for guests, plus one for the crew. She had a nice-sized galley, a main salon that contained a sound system to die for, and a few other amenities I had paid for and installed myself, before I discovered she would never be mine. I wised up then, and set out to earn enough to buy my own boat. 

Only, three-quarters of a mil was kind of hard to come by when you were trying to teach anthropology to first year college students who would rather be out partying or getting laid. I was on the verge of giving up on the boat completely when I heard from Naomi. 

The ringing of the phone jerked me awake, and I scrabbled to pick up the receiver. My heart was pounding so painfully I was afraid it would actually do an imitation of one of those Alien chestbursters. "Hullo?" 

"Blair, darling." A woman's voice. 

"Who is this?" I'd stopped dating women when I realized I liked fucking men better. 

"Blair, this is your mother!" 

Naomi? It had been a long time since I'd heard from her, even longer since I'd seen her; she was living somewhere on the East coast now. "Mom, what's wrong? Did something happen to BJ?" I kept in sporadic touch with my younger brother, but I hadn't spoken to him in a few months. 

"Oh, sweetheart, your scamp of a brother is fine! Why would you think anything was the matter with him?" 

"You woke me out of a sound sleep, Naomi. Why _wouldn't_ I think something was wrong?" 

"Why were you still asleep, you slugabed?" she teased. "You'll never amount to anything if you spend the day in bed!" 

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and stared through gummed lashes at my alarm. "Naomi, it's not quite five in the morning. Time difference," I reminded her patiently. 

"Oh, dear. Of course. Oh, well, since I've already got you up, I may as well tell you the news. You remember that mineral, chatarra, that I was desperate to find for the new line of super conductor?" 

"Not really." 

"Really, dear, you must try to keep au courant. Anyway, I've found it!" 

"You mean one of your flunkies found it." I yawned hugely. "So?" 

"So, Blair, I have someone who is going to seal the deal for me, but he'll need to be on Isla del Volcan Repugnante in three weeks." 

"And you're telling me this at five A.M. Washington State time because...?" 

"I'm going to need you to transport him there." 

I'd sworn off doing any little favors for her after I'd received my undergraduate degree in anthropology. That time it had been an esoteric plant that could only be found on a tiny island in the Vanuatu chain in the Coral Sea, and I'd nearly wound up in some native tribe's dinner pot. If it hadn't been for Eli Stoddard ... I'd gotten the plant, but she'd never wanted to know how I'd had to repay the older anthropologist for saving my skin. "Why would I do that, Naomi?" 

I could almost see her examining her nails and frowning as she tried to decide whether or not she needed a manicure. "You want the Tweedle Dee, don't you, Blair?" 

"I want to find Prince Charming, too. So what? The odds of me getting either are too slim to even consider." 

"I'll sign over the title if you do this for mommy." 

"Naomi..." Geez, I hated when she tried at this late date to get maternal. 

"Blair, I'll have Frank Hagen bring the papers to you within the hour." Naomi could do that, could have one of the highest paid corporate attorneys in the country out of bed, on a private jet with the pertinent paperwork, and at my front door before seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. 

"Naomi, did you ever hear the saying, 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me?'" 

"Blair, I'll pinkie swear, if you'd like. I'll even let you hire whoever you like to crew the Tweedle Dee, even those two reprobates, Henri Brown and Joel Taggart." 

H and Joel had been my friends for a long time, but she'd never cared for them. It hadn't been the color of their skin, but rather the fact that both their fathers had been cops. Joel's had been a beat cop, and Henri's wound up working for Naomi. My mother was nothing if not a snob. 

"This must be really important to you." I wanted that boat. I could almost taste how much I wanted her. "All right, look. I have to do some research on a paper I'm doing for my dissertation, and I need to be at the University library." I'd come across a monograph by Sir Richard Burton, in which he discussed the possibility of the existence of sentinels, men and women whose enhanced senses allowed them to find water, track game, warn of the approach of the tribe's enemies, protect the tribe. Something in the monograph, the mention of guides, who protected the protector, struck a chord. That would have been a worthy vocation. Unfortunately, I was stuck teaching students who stubbornly refused to learn. "If Hagen gets here before I have to leave, I'll let my own lawyer look over the papers. If they're all in order, I'll do it." 

"'If'? Oh, sweetheart, you cut me to the quick!" 

"Yeah, yeah. That's my offer, take it or leave it." 

"I'll call Frank and get the ball rolling. There are a few other things I need to do, and then... Gotta go, sweetie. Bye." 

I threw back the covers and got up. I'd take a shower and start the coffee, just on the off chance that my mother's lawyer did show up with the authentic title. 

* * *

Frank Hagen arrived with minutes to spare. I took the papers to my own lawyer the next morning. Son of a bitch, they were the real thing. Naomi had got me, fair and square. 

* * *

It wasn't this Jim Ellison's fault, whoever he was. I had been in a piss-poor mood ever since I'd realized I'd been suckered into doing this favor for Naomi. I snapped and snarled at everyone. Henri and Joel just made rude gestures and ignored me, and went about the business of preparing the Tweedle Dee for a long ocean voyage. 

When I saw BJ on the dock, about to light up one of his ever-present cigarettes, I scowled at him. "BJ." And then I saw the pain in his eyes and decided not to chastise him for endangering his health. "Do you know where Naomi is?" 

"Have you seen Naomi?" Our questions emerged simultaneously. 

"Mom loves a secret almost as much as she loves money." Of course, neither of us knew her whereabouts. I studied the man who stood beside BJ. About six feet, pale blue eyes, close-cropped brown hair. He was wearing walking shorts, and I eyed his legs with interest, and wondered if the rest of his body was as firmly muscled. Then I wondered what the fuck was wrong with me. This was one of Naomi's flunkies. "That outfit's wearing you, Felix!" 

"Why are you calling me Felix?" 

"I do what I want! And that's a fucking silly hat you've got on!" 

"You know Naomi, Blair," my brother interrupted. "It's all phone calls and telegrams. I haven't seen her in nine months." 

"Nine months to birth you, nine months between visits. Coincidence? With Naomi, who knows?" 

"You're in a mood. What crawled up your ass and died?" 

"It's the sunshine, BJ." I'd grown accustomed to the perennial rain of Washington State. "It gets me down." I didn't want to argue with my younger brother; it wasn't his fault that I'd sold out. I glanced at the man beside him. "Listen up. I don't work for Naomi. This transport is strictly a favor. Okay, get ready to heave, Felix!" 

"My name is James or Jim." His stance was challenging. 

"All right, _Jim_. Come aboard. If we want to catch the tide, we'll have to cast off now. H, hoist the mainsail. Joel, get ready to raise the anchor." I took the wheel and opened the mic of the ship to shore radio, notifying the Harbormaster that the Tweedle Dee would be getting under sail. 

Jim Ellison was standing by the rail waving to my brother. On the dock, I could see someone come up behind BJ, and I shouted, "You've got company!" He couldn't distinguish my words, not even when I repeated them. I picked up my telescope to get a better view of what was happening. 

The two men confronted each other, and I was prepared to come about, when the taller one suddenly pulled my brother into an embrace and kissed him. I hoped this might be more than just another of BJ's casual fucks. And while he had constant hot and cold running flings, I went the other way and rarely let anyone close enough to get in my bed. Naomi had often said she was disappointed in both of us, BJ for being so indiscriminate, and me being too picky. 

"Would you like to go below deck, Jim, and get settled in?" He looked pleased until I continued, "Joel, will you take Jim to his cabin, please?" And then his expression became disappointed. Quickly he smoothed it out. 

"Sure thing, boss. This way, Mr. Ellison." 

"Jim. First night out is always formal. Do you have a tux?" 

"I have a tux." 

"Why aren't I surprised?" I muttered to myself. "With all the trunks this guy has, I'll bet the only thing he doesn't have is the kitchen sink!" 

His hand came up to cover his mouth, and I had the strangest feeling that he was trying to conceal a grin. But he couldn't have heard what I'd said! 

I watched his ass until he and Joel disappeared into the wheelhouse, and then I sighed. This guy works for Naomi, I reminded myself sternly. You _don't_ want to get involved with him! 

* * *

"He seems like a nice guy, boss. You gonna give him a chance?" 

I was helping Henri put together dinner. "A chance to do what? Break my heart? Don't you remember what happened the last time Naomi sent someone out here? It turned out she was _paying_ him to sleep with me. My own mother, and she didn't think I could find someone on my own." 

"I saw the way you were looking at him, Blair. And he was looking back, too." 

"H, I don't want to hear another word about this Jim Ellison." I'd been down to check on him, and he'd been sprawled across his berth, sound asleep. The lines of stress and tension were gone, and he looked much younger than I had originally assumed. 

"Or what? You gonna fire my ass? I don't think so, skipper!" he snickered. "Joel won't let you." 

"No, he likes your ass too much." Henri had been my best friend since grade school. His dad had come to work for Naomi as head of her security, California division, and they had lived in the guest cottage at the back of the estate. At one time I'd even hoped H might be more than a friend, but then he'd met Joel Taggart, and I knew when he introduced the older man to me that I'd lost out. I tried not to be envious of their relationship, I really did, but sometimes, when I saw them together... I wanted that for myself, but it didn't look as if it was in the cards for Naomi Sandburg's boy, Blair. 

Henri just grinned. "This is true. Why don't you go wake up Mr. Ellison? Dinner should be ready in half an hour. That will give him time to freshen up." 

But I ran down to my cabin to change and sent Joel to wake him up and remind him that tonight we would be dressing for dinner. 

Thirty minutes later he appeared on deck. My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. Wearing a white tuxedo, he looked good enough to eat in long, slow, savoring bites. 

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting?" 

"Uh... no. I... er... It's such a beautiful night I thought we'd dine on deck." 

"Sounds like a good idea. I can't believe how beautiful the sky looks. In New York, there're always so many lights that you really can't see the stars." He eyed the clothes I wore and smiled. "I'm glad I chose this tux to wear." 

So was I. It complimented my white tux. "First night is formal, Jim, but otherwise, we're very relaxed on the Tweedle Dee." We took our seats at the table and Henri began serving us, a tossed salad, porterhouse steaks, and baked potatoes. "This is Henri Brown." 

"Jim." They shook hands. "I'm the best cook in a thousand mile radius." 

"Considering we're out to sea, H, that really isn't saying much!" I teased, and he smacked the back of my head. "Hey! Watch the 'do!" 

"Just remember, hairboy, I have a razor, and I'm not afraid to use it! One night when you're sleeping... zzzzzip! Hair all gone!" His hearty laugh rang out as I pretended to cower away from him. "Would you care for butter or sour cream on your potato, Jim?" 

Jim swept his tongue over his lips and inhaled deeply. "Mmm!" I had to shift to ease the sudden constriction of my dress trousers. "Both, please." 

"See, Blair. Not everyone thinks having butter _and_ sour cream on your baked potato is the equivalent of running an IV line with cholesterol directly into your veins." 

I crossed my eyes at Henri. I'd been trying to get him to eat healthy for years. "Laugh it up, fuzzy. I'll still be here when you're pushing up daisies." 

H had the gall to actually laugh, and he ran a hand over his skull, which he liked to keep as smooth-shaven as his face. "Joel loves me just the way I am." 

"This is true." Joel uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured it for us. "But Henri won't die, because he knows if he does, I'm going right after him to kill him." 

"Look into my eyes." Henri's middle finger was just under his right eye, and we all laughed. He snorted and glanced over the table. "The coffee is perking, and dessert is in the cooler, my world renowned Key Lime pie. If you've got everything, Blair, Joel and I are going to watch an Unsolved Mysteries tape." 

"This is fine. Thanks, H, Joel. I'll see you in the morning." The two men went down to the salon where a forty-two inch TV/VCR combo had pride of place. 

"Unsolved Mysteries?" 

I grinned and shrugged. "Joel has a weakness for Robert Stack, and H likes the weird stories. I taped a whole bunch of shows for them. There are a variety of movies as well, if you prefer. We don't get any kind of reception out to sea, so we make do." 

Jim took a bite of his steak. His eyes closed in ecstasy, and he moaned, and I wondered if he sounded like that when he was having sex. "I haven't eaten a steak like this in years." 

"We eat well on the Tweedle Dee. Henri really is the best cook in a thousand mile radius, and he makes sure the freezer is well stocked." We ate in silence for some time. Finally, "So... um... what happens after I leave you on Isla del Volcan Repugnante? When do I have to come back and pick you up?" His eyes grew sad, and I rushed back into speech. "I don't mind, honest, I don't! I love sailing, and I love this boat. That's why I agreed to take you there. Naomi promised her to me!" 

"Did she? Well, you won't have to come back for me." 

"Huh? How are you getting home, then?" 

"I'm not." 

"You're not? Well, how long are you planning on staying there?" 

He pushed his plate away and sat back, looking thoughtful. "For the rest of my life, Blair. Listen, didn't Henri say something about Key Lime pie?" 

"Uh... yeah. Hold on. I'll clear this off and get it. Do you want some more wine?" 

"No. I'm really not much of a wine drinker." 

I stacked the plates in the dumbwaiter and sent it down to the galley, then brought the pie and the coffee to the table. The night was balmy, and I removed my dinner jacket and laid it across the deck chair. Jim did the same. His shirt was of linen so fine that I could see the dusky shadow of his nipples through it. They seemed to peak under my avid gaze, and my mouth grew dry. Again the silence stretched. I hurried into speech. "Do you like to fish, Jim? Maybe tomorrow we can go fishing." He said nothing. I took a sip of coffee, then set down my cup and fidgeted with my fork and spoon. "Or we can go scuba diving, if you'd rather. Or take the WaveRunner out..." 

"Blair." Jim waited until I met his eyes. "Why did you cop an attitude toward me on the dock? I could understand if I'd done something to piss you off, but we'd never even met." 

I owed him an explanation at the very least. I ran a hand through my hair, snagging it in the thong that kept it out of my face. "I've always kept clear of my mother's stuff, Jim, ever since I got out on my own. Now she's got me working for her, which is something I had promised myself I would never do. Naomi told me that if I took you to the Big Nasty she would give me this boat. I feel ashamed, because I have a price. She named it, and," I looked away, "now I know that about myself." 

"Blair..." 

"No, let me finish, please." In the Sandburg household, fuck-ups were not allowed. If you did, you never admitted it, and more importantly, you never apologized for it. I took a breath, and then continued. "I took it out on you, but that's me kicking myself for selling out. It doesn't change what I did, doesn't make me feel any better; in fact, it makes me feel like a real shit, and I'm sorry. We're on a little boat for a while, Jim, and I'm soul sick. You won't be able to avoid seeing that. Like my brother. BJ is soul sick, too." I pictured my younger brother, desperate to find love, but as soon as it was offered, running away because he was terrified to accept it. "I love my brother; I know he's screwed up. Growing up with Naomi for a mother, he couldn't be anything but. She's never around, and when she is... Well, if you look up maternal in the dictionary, you won't find her picture there. Look, I don't know what your situation is, but I wanted you to know mine." I studied his eyes, not really knowing what I hoped to find in them. "Did you sleep with BJ?" 

"No." 

"Okay. Okay. See, if you had slept with him, that would have told me something about you, but you tell me you didn't sleep with my brother. And I believe you." I didn't know why, but I did. And I was relieved. I glanced up to find his eyes fastened on my mouth, and suddenly I became hot and breathless, and I shifted in my seat again. 

Jim's nose twitched, as if he could smell the pheromones I knew I had to be shedding. Of course that was impossible, but if he could smell my arousal, what would he do? 

He rose and came around to my side of the table, and wound his fingers in the front of my dress shirt. He pulled me to my feet, and his mouth came down to mine, but before our lips touched, he paused. "I'm going to kiss you, Blair. If you don't want that, you'd better say so now." 

I wanted that. More than I had realized, I wanted the taste of his lips and tongue in my mouth. Somehow he must have heard the small sound of assent I gave. His arm snaked around my waist and brought our groins together. His cock was hard. It nudged the vee of my thighs, and I spread them to steady my balance. My whimper was swallowed by his mouth, and in spite of my determination to keep my eyes open, they slid shut. 

Long fingers fumbled at my waist, unbuttoning my trousers and then unzipping them. Jim hummed in pleasure when he realized I wore no underwear. He spread his hands, freeing my dick from the prison of my pants. His thumb rubbed lazy patterns on the tip with the pre come that was oozing out in pearly drops. 

I tried to get my hands between us, to stroke over the bulge that marred the smooth line of his dress trousers, but he growled a warning. "No. Just hold onto me." He may have wanted to be the one in control, but I had no intention of obeying him. I managed to lower his zipper before he realized what I was doing, and my hands were filled with his hot flesh. 

"Oh, yes!" I licked frantically at his mouth, slid my tongue between his parted lips, and he sucked delicately at it. It had been so long since a hand other than my own had touched me; I knew I couldn't last long. I moaned and spilled myself into his hands. 

I wasn't so lost in the shivering aftermath of my orgasm that I wasn't going to pleasure him as well. I'd been raised to be a gentleman, after all. I took his hands and wrapped them around his dick, smearing my semen over it, then closed my hands over his, and we finished jerking him off together. 

He came with a muffled groan, and filled both our hands with his essence. "Nice!" I sighed, slowly coming down from that climactic high. It had been the best sexual experience I'd ever had, fully clothed. 

"Nice? Is that all you have to say?" Jim rubbed his hand over my mouth, and then licked my lips. "We taste good together, Blair." He drew in a deep breath. "Damn, we _smell_ good together!" 

//Keep it light.// "You sweet-talker, you!" I was wary of letting him know that I could very easily fall in love with him. //Change the subject.// "Have you ever slept on a boat, Jim? It really affects your dreams." He stiffened in my arms. "Something wrong, Jim?" He shook his head, and I nuzzled the shirt beneath my mouth. I'd been sucking on him through the material without paying much attention. "Sorry. I left a wet spot." 

That startled a soft chuckle out of Jim. He wound his fingers in my hair and tugged back, leaving me no choice but to meet his eyes. A blush heated my cheeks. As I'd said, it had been a long time, and I'd gotten out of the habit of post-coital repartee. 

I tried to back out of his arms, but he tightened his grip and dropped a kiss onto my lips. "I liked what we just did, Blair. I'd like to do it again. I don't want to rush you into anything..." He bit off the rest of his words. 

I stood there with my dick tucked away, but my fly still open. I knew what he was going to say. 'It's just sex. You can't have anything more.' It had been said to me before. "Don't worry about it, Jim. I've been playing with the big boys for a long time." I freed myself, picked up a napkin, and wiped us both off. 

"Blair..." He was pale. 

"Y'know what? I think you'd better go to bed." I made a snap decision. "I don't want to leave the dishes and cups on deck for Henri to find tomorrow morning, so I'm going to clean this up, and then I'm going to bed, too. Your bed is bigger." I breached his personal space, gripped the lapels of his dressy shirt, and murmured against his lips, "Tomorrow I'll give you a guided tour of the Tweedle Dee." I had meant to say 'grand tour'. What had possessed me to substitute 'guide'? And then I forgot about it. I was too hot for him. "Tonight I'm giving you a guided tour of me!" 

* * *

The Tweedle Dee-Jim 

Blair had tried to hide his hurt when I'd told him I didn't want to rush him; he thought I wanted nothing more than the sex. I'd nearly fucked up and told him I didn't have the time to take it slow, that even if I wasn't planning on throwing myself into a volcano in less than three weeks, I'd still be dead within six months. 

His hair concealed his face for a moment, and when I brushed it aside, he no longer seemed to care that I wasn't going to promise him forever. I couldn't let that bother me. 

I continued watching him. "Your bed is bigger." His eyes were locked on mine, and I heard his heartbeat speed up. I was rock hard again. "Tonight I'm giving you a guided tour of me!" Oh, yeah, my dick was really interested. 

The corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied smile. I leaned forward to capture that smile, to taste it, but before I could, he shoved me around and gave me a push toward the wheelhouse and the stairs that led below deck. 

In my stateroom, I stripped off my dress shirt and trousers, and folded the comforter down to the foot of the berth. Supplies! Lube and condoms. I opened the lid of the steamer trunk and pulled the drawers open one after the other, but of course there was nothing. I hadn't expected to find anyone in the time I had left. I sat on the bed and swore under my breath. 

There was a tap on my door. "Come on in," I grumbled. 

Blair entered cautiously. He was carrying the jacket to my tux, and he placed it on the chair by the desk. "Have you changed your mind, Jim? If you'd rather not do this..." I caught my breath at the disappointment in his eyes. 

"All the fucking _stuff_ in the goddamned free world, but no lubricant. No condoms. I am depressed!" 

"Ah. Good thing I believe in being prepared, Jim! Ta da!" He tossed me the tube of lubricant and a large, economy-size box of condoms. "I used to be a Boy Scout, Jim," he announced smugly. 

My eyes widened in surprise. The tube bore the logo of American Panascope. "Son of a bitch! This is the company I used to work for! Miserable people." I thought of Ms. Plummer, and how she made everyone's life so much harder than it needed to be. "A teeny tiny room, no fresh air, fluorescent lighting that sucked the life out of you!" 

"My office in Rainier was like that." 

"Rainier U? That's in Washington, isn't it?" 

"Mmm hmm." 

"I used to live in Cascade, about eight years ago." 

"Cascade's like a hop, skip, and a jump from Rainier! I used to teach there." 

"'Used to'?" 

"I had to resign when they wouldn't let me take a leave of absence. That's where I was when Naomi tracked me down and made me an offer I couldn't refuse." 

She had made me one, too, but I wasn't about to tell that to the man standing at the foot of my bed. "You know, now that I have some distance from that situation, I can't believe I put up with it for so long!" 

"Why did you?" Blair must have taken off his shoes and socks while he was in his cabin getting the supplies, because he was barefoot. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, his trouser button was undone, and his fingers were busy unbuttoning his shirt. 

I couldn't bear to let him know what a chicken shit I was, that for eight years I'd let fear rule my life. "Habit?" I offered. I could see he was going to press for more details, so I decided on a diversion. My eyes dropped to below his waist, and I let out a low whistle. A quick glance at his face verified the success of my tactic. Warm color flooded his cheeks. I resumed studying his groin, and his trousers tented in response to my silent approval of his body. He began to hum something very softly, and I extended my hearing enough to that I could distinguish the notes. A smile started that quickly grew so broad it felt as if my face would split. "Take it off! Take it all off, baby!" 

His eyes remained on mine, the blue dark and hot, and he smiled in turn and ran his tongue over his lips. With lazy, languid movements he removed his shirt, revealing a chest covered with a dark chestnut pelt, and I wondered what it would feel like to the touch, if it would be soft and cling to my fingertips, or wiry and tickle them. The vee of hair arrowed down past his waistband in a narrow line. I waited impatiently for him to unzip his trousers; I wanted so badly to see what was hidden beneath them. His fingers stroked over nicely defined pecs, pausing to circle a nipple ring, and I winced in sympathy at the thought of the little nub being pierced. 

Finally, he unzipped his trousers, slowly lowering the metal tab of his zipper, and I held my breath, watching with interest as inch by inch his dick was exposed, rising proudly from a thatch of curls. I realized it was true what they said about shorter men being otherwise compensated. "Like what you see, Jim?" 

"Oh, yeah, you could say that." I licked my lips, eager to taste the drop of pre come that was beading at the flushed tip of his cock. 

He let his trousers drop to the deck and stepped out of them. "I'll toss you to see who bottoms," he grinned. 

"Sounds like a plan." Before he realized what I was up to, I got my shoulder into his abdomen and flipped him onto his back on my berth. I followed him down and rubbed my cheek against the velvety-soft skin of his cock. "Guess I win, Blair." 

"That is so not fair, man!" Blair complained with a huff of laughter as he lay sprawled beneath me. 

"Who said life was going to be fair?" I ran my tongue up the side of his cock and curled it as far around the crown as I could get it, then tugged. He groaned and thrust up helplessly. "Uh uh uh. I'm the boss!" I sucked on his cock to keep him distracted while I reached for the tube of lubricant and squeezed some onto my fingers. 

His fingers were flexing restlessly against my scalp while I pushed his legs apart and back and optimized my access to his anus. I stroked the lube across his hole, around it, gradually dipping deeper and deeper into it until he took my whole finger. Words poured from his mouth, first demanding when I found his prostate and rubbed it firmly, and then pleading when I withdrew my finger. 

"Jim!" he gasped when two fingers entered him. They began a scissoring motion, and I thought he was going to shoot up off the berth. 

Both of us were panting hoarsely, harshly, he because I'd brought him so close to climaxing, me because if I didn't get my cock in the hot, snug passage my fingers were exploring, I was going to ... I pulled my mouth off him. He whimpered. I removed my fingers. He groaned. I rolled on a condom and smoothed on more lube, and I shivered from the touch of my own fingers. I parted his ass cheeks, fitted my cock to his opening, thrust in with an easy, steady motion, and once I was seated in him, I was home. 

My eyes were screwed shut tight. I rocked my hips, driving deep into him, pulling almost all the way out. My mouth was open as I struggled to breathe, not caring if I had the oxygen or not, but needing it if I wanted to continue fucking him. 

The warmth of his palm on my cheek caused me to open my eyes. I balanced my weight on my knees, wrapped my arms around him and sat back, bringing him up into my lap and driving my cock deeper into his bowels. 

Blair leaned forward, pushing me back, and I braced my hands behind me so I wouldn't topple over. "Yes!" he growled, his face buried in my neck, taking a patch of skin between his teeth and marking it. His cock was imprisoned between our groins, and as his hips rose and fell, each thrust teased him higher. He may have been the one who was penetrated, but I was the one who was being thoroughly fucked. 

He was moaning steadily, and his rhythm became erratic. I balanced on one hand on the berth, threaded the fingers of the other in his long hair and brought his mouth to mine, swallowing the needy sounds. "Come on, baby," I whispered against his mouth. "Come for me." Almost there. I moved my hand from the berth to his back, resting my shoulders on the mattress, easily bearing his warm, solid weight. Then I caressed the knobs of his spine down to the curve of his buttocks, stroked the crevice between them. I could feel how his hole was stretched by my cock, and I pressed against that spot. "Come for me." 

"JIM!" His cry was muffled against my neck, and hot semen spurted onto my abdomen. That was all it took to set me off, and I came even harder than I had before. 

"It's never been this good, babe! Never!" Aftershocks pulsed through me, and I straightened my legs with a groan. 

Blair hummed in agreement and relaxed, his arms firmly around me, his cheek on my shoulder, and his legs tangled with mine. I softened and slid out of him, and he whimpered but settled himself more comfortably on me. 

"If you don't let me get something to clean us up, we're going to be stuck together forever." I managed to remove the condom, and I could feel his smile against my shoulder. 

"I don't have a problem with that." 

Neither did I. Only, I didn't have forever. Carefully I rolled him onto the mattress. I swung off the berth and padded into the head, where I disposed of the condom, soaked a washcloth and squeezed out the excess moisture. After I cleaned myself off, I rinsed the washcloth, went back into the stateroom, and found him dozing on his back. I wiped the streaks of semen from his torso, then turned him over, and I pressed the cloth to his hole while I checked him for tears. 

"'M fine, Jim. C'mon back to bed." 

"Yes." I didn't think of the short time we had. I didn't think of what was awaiting me on that island, the way I was going to die, or the simple fact that I was going to die, period. I crawled onto the berth, settled my lover against me, and pulled the covers over us. 

* * *

He was keeping something from me, something that worried him. But then I was keeping something from him as well. 

So we fished, and for every fish Blair pulled in, one of those suckers stole my bait. Finally I managed to hook something, and there was a freaking massive battle in which everyone, Joel, Henri, Blair, they _all_ tried to help me haul it up. It turned out to be a hammerhead shark, the scariest-looking fish I had ever, _ever_ seen. I had no intention of quarreling with that shark over possession of a fishing rod! I flipped it over the side of the boat and let him take it. 

We scuba-dived. Blair fitted the tanks to my back and fastened the buckles. He showed me how to spit in the mask to cut down the possibility of it fogging up, and how to tip over backwards from the transom to enter the water. And when we were twenty-five feet below the surface, Blair eased the regulator out of my mouth and under the guise of teaching me how to buddy breathe, kissed me stupid. 

We rode the waves on the WaveRunner. He sat on the long seat, in cut-off jeans, looking up patiently. "Come on, Jim. It's a piece of cake! It won't sink, I promise!" I was wearing swim trunks that were... loud. Gingerly I eased myself down onto the seat. "Hold on, man." I held on. "Uh... Jim? Babe? You want to let me breathe?" I eased my grip on him, dropping my hands to his waist, and once _I_ remembered to breathe, I found I really enjoyed skimming over the waves. I leaned against his back, and while one hand stayed curled around his waist, the fingers of the other tiptoed from his knee to the frayed hem of his shorts and slid under, reaching for hidden treasure. 

We spent evenings on deck, letting the boat rock beneath us, gazing at the stars and talking, or just lying on the bench seats, enjoying the silence. And when we went below deck to my cabin, Joel and Henri would take possession of the deck, having watched their fill of videos, and we'd spend the night in each other's arms. 

One night I was lying on my berth, waiting for Blair to come into my stateroom. I was reading something I had found in the Tweedle Dee's library, a monograph by Sir Richard Burton, the explorer not the actor, regarding the subject of sentinels. It was the first time I had ever actually seen any written matter about the conundrum with which I'd been living. I noticed that the sections dealing with 'guides' were highlighted. 

At that point Blair finally showed up, and I forgot everything else. He used silk ties to restrain my wrists and ankles, leaving me spread out on the berth, and he rapidly shed his clothes. I felt the heat of my arousal sweep through me, up from my toes, down from my chest, pooling in my groin, and I could smell his sexual excitement, but no matter what pleas or demands spilled from my mouth, he simply grunted a reply. 

"Blair..." I was becoming desperate. I learned why he wouldn't say a word when he stripped the fine linen boxers I wore out of the way and went down on me, his mouth chilled from the ice cube he held in it. I shivered, and not simply from the difference in temperatures. 

I was right; his lips did look good around my dick. 

It took a shamefully short amount of time before I was slammed into an intense orgasm. Blair licked me clean, and after I'd recovered my breath, and he'd loosened the ties, I flipped him onto his back and returned the favor, sucking him until he erupted in my mouth. 

My lover was breathless. I settled him beside me, my grin smug. We lay bonelessly, side by side on that big berth. I couldn't remember ever feeling so _alive_ , even when I wasn't dying. If I tried really hard, I could pretend we'd always be together on this boat, sailing away from the things of man. 

Abruptly Blair asked, "Is Naomi paying you to sleep with me?" 

"What? No! She's paying me to jump into a volcano!" 

" _What_?" He flipped over and peered into my eyes. 

Oh, jesus, talk about loose lips. "Um..." 

"Jim! You want to tell me what's going on?" His expression was so confused, and he looked so cute. I owed him an explanation. 

I hesitated, trying to think of the best way to describe the situation I'd found myself in. Finally I decided to just come right out and tell him. "I've got six months to live. Your mother needs this mineral, chatarra, I think it's called. The Chopecs on Isla del Volcan Repugnante have it, and they'll sell her the rights, but only if she can get them someone who'll throw himself into the volcano on their island. And... uh... that's where I come in." I finished in a rush. 

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out, and he shut it. He repeated this a couple of times. Abraham Lincoln once said, "It is better to be silent and have men think you a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt." It appeared Blair was opting to remain silent. 

"Say something, Blair!" I pleaded. 

"You tell me you're dying. You tell me you're going to jump in a volcano. My mind is a blank." He frowned at me. "You're really going to die?" 

"This is not something I would joke about, Blair. I'm going to wind up with the IQ of a bunch of broccoli, in a hospital bed, tethered to machines that will feed and water me like I'm some goddamned vegetable. I'll have as much control over my body as I did when I was a baby, but let me tell you something, my friend! Where people don't mind cleaning a baby when he's got a diaper full of shit, it's a whole 'nother ball of wax when it's a full grown male who's wearing that diaper! I refuse to sit still and wait for that to happen to me!" I caught the minute hitch of his breath, and it was my turn to look hurt. "You're scared of me, aren't you? You'd leave just like..." I couldn't help but think of how quickly Sandy had left my apartment when I'd told he I was going to die. "... just like someone else did, if we weren't on this boat, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." 

"No, fuck it, I'm not scared! I'm so pissed I could chew nails." Suddenly, suspicion writ large across his face, he asked, "You're not telling me this just so I won't think what we have is more than a shipboard romance, are you? Because I know that!" I shook my head, and he pounded his hand on the mattress. "Shitshitshit!" His voice became almost inaudible. "I find someone who's given me the best sex I've ever... I've had in ages, who wasn't bought for me by my mother, and he's going to fucking die?" He scowled and spoke in a normal tone. "Talk about sucking big time!" 

"Tell me about it, Darwin! I'm the one who'll be doing a swan dive into a crater filled with hot lava!" 

"You don't have to sound so... accepting!" 

"What do you want me to do? Curse the fates? Curse myself for not living life to the full while I had the opportunity? The end isn't going to be pretty, Blair. I can control that, choose my time to die. And in the meantime, I'd like to spend what time I have left making love with you. Unless you don't want to..." 

"Oh, no, Jim Ellison! I'm a greedy son of a bitch! I want every minute with you that I can get!" He blushed red in the soft glow of the lamp at the head of the berth. 

"Yeah?" I stroked a finger over the curve of his cheekbone. 

"Yeah. Now, why don't we get some rest? I believe the next bones that are to be jumped are yours! I can get by on a few hours of sleep a night." My lover's breathing was becoming slower, and I settled him beside me again. "You know something, Jim? Naomi says almost the whole world is asleep. Everyone you know, everyone you see, everyone you talk to, they're all asleep. Those who are awake are in a state of constant, total amazement." He yawned and pillowed his head on my arm, his riot of curls tickling my throat and chin. Within a matter of minutes his heart rate had resumed its normal, steady beat, and he was sound asleep. 

"You leave me in a constant state of amazement, babe." He mumbled something in his sleep, too indistinct even for my ears. "What was that?" His arms tightened around me, and he sighed, and the warmth of his breath tickled over my collarbone. I dropped a kiss on the top of his head. "I just wish we had more time." 

* * *

True to his words, within a few hours, Blair was awake again, and this time he had me on my hands and knees, licking a path from the sensitive skin behind my balls to my hole. He pressed slicked fingers into me, preparing the way for his cock. I'd never had one so large, and I had to breathe through the burn and the sense of fullness. Once his cock found my prostate, though, I was totally awash in sensation and kept begging for more. He jerked me off while he pounded into my ass, but he was the one in control. Each time I was about to climax, he would squeeze the base of my cock, and the need would subside. He would drive me back into the vortex, shivering, swearing and sweating profusely until he finally decided it was time, and with one more deep, hard thrust, we both came. 

It was one of the best orgasms I'd ever had, until a couple of hours later, when he woke me up again, and did it again, and proved that the first time hadn't been a fluke. 

The last time, sometime just after dawn, neither of us had the energy to stumble into the head for a washcloth. We sank into an exhausted slumber; the berth was a wreck, and we were both covered with bruises and love bites and come. I was happier than I had ever been in my life. 

When I woke up a couple of hours later, I was alone. 

* * *

Typhoon-Blair 

Jim was so exhausted I wasn't surprised that he didn't hear the soft tapping on the stateroom door, although he had surprised me a number of times by responding to something I'd said so quietly I couldn't understand how he'd heard me. I slipped out of bed and padded to the door, cracking it open enough to see that Joel was standing there. I rubbed my hair vigorously. "What's up, man?" 

"Doesn't look good topside, Blair. You'd better come up and take a look. I think we're in for a blow!" 

"Ah, fuck! I'll be there in ten minutes." I glanced regretfully over my shoulder. Jim was sprawled wantonly on the berth, his cock lying on his thigh, flaccid now. A flash of warmth spread through me as I recalled the night we had spent. I hadn't been able to get enough of him, and kept waking him up. I'd had no problem bottoming for him, but last night, after he told me he was going to die, that he was going to throw himself into a volcano, I'd needed to let him know how much I lo... wanted him, and I'd taken him again and again. 

As if aware of my heated gaze, Jim's cock twitched. If it hadn't been for the threat of a storm, I would have spent the rest of the day in bed with him. I sighed and left his stateroom for mine. After a quick shower, I dressed and hurried up on deck. 

Henri was waiting for me with a mug of hot coffee and a pineapple danish. "Thanks, H. Oh, jesus!" The sky was an eerie shade of green. There was a hush surrounding us. The sea was still, and the sails sagged on the rigging with no wind to belly them. That could change at any moment. 

"Yeah." His eyes were calm, though. We'd ridden out storms before. 

"I'll help Joel lower the sails." "Help Joel lower the sails." We swapped grins, and he hurried to find his partner and start getting the Tweedle Dee ready to face the storm. I went into the wheelhouse. 

The computer's Weatherfax program was running, and the VHF radio was announcing a typhoon warning. The meteorologist's voice was tight with restrained anxiety. Shit. This was not good. I'd been sure when I plotted this course that there was nothing in our path. I hated surprises. 

I went back onto the deck, and while Henri and Joel lowered and secured the sails, I went around battening the hatches. Then I got another cup of coffee, went fore and waited, the base of my neck tingling. 

"Hey, Blair." Jim had come up behind me so quietly that I hadn't realized he was there, and I jumped. "It's a little weird today." 

"There's a typhoon warning. If we're lucky, it will pass to the south of us." 

"I thought Joel said typhoon season was almost over." 

"The key word being 'almost.'" 

He took my coffee mug and sipped, frowning when his lips touched the rim. "Geez, I really hate pineapple danish!" 

"How'd you know it was pineapple?" But although one part of my mind was curious about that, I wasn't really paying attention. 

Jim could see that. "Will we be okay?" 

I rubbed my jaw. Normally I loved pitting myself against the raw forces of nature, but for some reason, I had a bad feeling about this storm. "I have confidence in me, and the guys, and this boat. The hatches are down, the sails are down. We're ahead of the game. Henri! Get the engines started. Joel! Head us into the wind, and keep us into the wind!" I handed Jim a life vest and slid into one myself. 

"Right, skipper!" Both Henri and Joel were already wearing vests. 

"Blair, there is no wind." 

"There will be, Jim." As if on cue, the Tweedle Dee began to rock. Small waves slapped at her sides. The air became charged with static electricity, and a crooked lightning bolt split the sky. 

* * *

Jim was with me in the wheelhouse. The guidance system had crapped out, and none of the electrical equipment was giving reliable readings. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the Tweedle Dee. Latitude ten degrees, eight minutes south, longitude approximately one hundred degrees, eighteen minutes west. We are in severe distress! I say again, this is the Tweedle Dee, in severe distress!" My mouth was dry, and I slammed the microphone down. "Fuck! No way is anyone getting this!" 

"What can I do to help?" Jim was pale, but steadfast. Another wave slammed into her side, throwing him against me. 

"Don't go on deck. Check on Henri. He's nursing the engines." Above the howl of the storm I heard an ominous, continuous thud. "Oh, christ! The main boom!" I ran out into the lashing wind and rain. The sea, what could be seen of it through the torrential downpour, was a caldron of dark, seething water. A hard hand landed on my shoulder. "Jim, what the fuck...?" 

"What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!" We could see the boom swinging wildly in the wind. If the sail loosened and became waterlogged before I could get it under restraints, we would be in serious danger of capsizing. 

I slid coils of rope over my head and shoulder. "It's my boat!" I caught the ties that had snapped loose and grabbed for the boom, but before I could seize it, the boat was rocked by a particularly vicious wave that raised her up high. When it dropped out from under her, she seemed to hang suspended for a lifetime. And then the boom clipped me in the head, and the last thing I remember before blacking out was being flung over the side, knowing I was going to die, and knowing that I'd never told Jim... 

* * *

The Raft-Jim 

" _Blair_!" I howled. I watched in helpless rage as that mother of a wave sent the boom crashing into him, knocking him overboard. Without even thinking about it, I went over the side after him, diving and surfacing, being slapped in the face by the never-ending cascade of water. 

I rode the crest of a wave, and before I could be dropped into its trough, I saw him, unconscious, the only thing keeping his head above water the life vest that was taking a horrendous beating. I fought the waves. Somehow I managed to reach him and wound an arm around his chest, keeping him tight against me. 

A sudden, ear-shattering scream rose, momentarily drowning even the shrieks of the storm, and I stared in shocked horror as a massive lightning bolt struck the Tweedle Dee. In the moments before she broke apart and sank, a small lifeboat was safely launched. "Joel! Henri!" The rain poured down relentlessly, and for every yard they managed to row toward us, they were pushed back three, until finally, the distance became so great I could no longer see them. 

I held onto Blair, dazed and battered by the fury of the typhoon, and after what seemed like forever, the storm eased off, whether because we had reached the edge of its influence, or because it was simply losing strength I had no idea. I was just grateful it was no longer trying to make us swallow the entire contents of the Pacific Ocean. 

Something large nudged my back, and I nearly pissed myself, images of Great White Sharks almost overcoming me. A glance over my shoulder revealed one of my steamer trunks, which the salesman had assured me were watertight. I blinked the salt water out of my eyes and saw that some distance away the other three had also surfaced. I manhandled Blair onto the one beside us, then struck out to round up the others. 

I freed the rope he'd looped over his shoulder, and one by one, I brought each trunk in and tied it to the original. The four of them made a decent-sized raft. Panting heavily from the exertion, I struggled to haul myself up beside my unconscious lover and collapsed into a restless doze. 

* * *

When I roused once again, it was to find the sun beating down on us with the intensity of a blast furnace. Our clothes had dried uncomfortably, stiff and crusted from the salt water that had soaked them. I needed a fresh change of clothes. I rolled to my knees and struggled with the locks of one of the trunks until I could get it opened. It contained the violin case bar, and I realized the trunk must have been one of the ones stowed in the hold. I pulled out the bar and opened the lone bottle of water it held. All I allowed myself was a single sip. I would save the rest for Blair. 

He was still unconscious. His hair was matted with dried blood from a shallow cut over his left ear, and I was afraid the blow from the boom must have left him concussed. I found a clean handkerchief in the trunk and dampened it, then forced his mouth open and ran the handkerchief over his tongue and inner cheek and lips before wiping it over his face. 

Once that was done, I went rummaging for something for him to wear. I put aside the tux he'd worn our first night out on the Tweedle Dee. After he'd stumbled sleepily to his own cabin to dress, I'd folded it quickly and hidden it at the bottom of the trunk, wanting something of his for that time when I could have nothing but that lonely walk up the side of the volcano. 

I wanted him wearing something of mine. I found a cotton shirt that buttoned down the front. After I stripped off the life vest and his clothes, I got the shirt on him; it covered him halfway to his knees. It was a good look on him. 

Next I pulled out the world-band travel radio and turned it on, hoping for some news about the typhoon, but all I was able to pick up was a Spanish station that only played the oldies. 

I also found a large umbrella and propped it so Blair was shaded from the merciless glare of the sun. 

Buried under all that stuff was a medic kit, with enough first aid items to aid a battalion. And at the bottom of that were condoms and a few tubes of KY jelly. Well, it was nice to know I did have supplies, but truthfully, I'd rather have had a partner who was conscious. 

Eventually, the sun began to sink, and even on the Tweedle Dee I hadn't seen such a gorgeous sunset. Pinks, oranges, violets, the hues flared brightly and then darkened. I lay on my back, staring into the night sky. The constellations were different from the ones I was used to seeing, and they took my breath away. 

It became cold. "Come on, Blair. Wake up for me. Please?" He shivered, and I tucked a throw that had been in another trunk around his shoulders. It was just one of the many things I had bought willy-nilly, and I was grateful for that unbridled shopping spree. 

From behind my shoulder light spilled onto my lover's face, and he frowned, although he still didn't waken. The moon was slowly rising in the sky. It was huge and majestic, and I felt my insignificance. I wasn't a religious man, but I was overcome by the sheer magnitude of that spectacle, and the Being who created it. 

I clasped my hands together and continued to stare up at the moon. "Dear god, whose name I do not know, thank you for my life. I forgot how _big_... Thank you." A single tear slid down my cheek. "And thank you for this man who you have brought into it." 

I angled Blair so the moon was no longer shining in his face, then spooned behind him to share my body warmth. 

* * *

The Raft-Blair 

I woke up feeling like shit. The top of my head was threatening to explode, my eyes were gritty, and my stomach wanted to climb out through my throat. The last thing I could remember eating was the danish Henri had handed to me, and that made a hasty exit moments after I sat up. Fortunately I managed to lean over the side of whatever it was I was floating on. 

Once my stomach had finished emptying itself, I sank back and tried to take stock of my surroundings. This was some kind of makeshift raft. Beneath my fingers, the surface felt rough and uneven. I raised my head cautiously, trying to spot the Tweedle Dee, but she was nowhere in sight. 

From behind me was a soft snuffling noise. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Jim Ellison lay there, dreaming. "Wake up, babe. You have to wake up!" I seemed to remember hearing that in my sleep, and now it was my turn to say it. I curved my hand over his cheek. It was scratchy from an incipient beard and dried salt water. 

"Jim. Jim!" I saw a bottle of water poking out from whatever it was we were floating on, and crawled over to retrieve it. There was a bottle of whiskey near it. I couldn't stand the taste in my mouth, and rinsed it with the liquor. Then I crawled back and poured some water over his lips. 

That brought him to consciousness with a vengeance. He bolted upright. "No!" 

I eased an arm around his shoulder and held him close to me. "Didn't you have any water for yourself?" 

Jim tried to thrust the bottle away without spilling any of the precious drops. "No! That's for Blair!" 

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Jim? Drink some of this! Don't make me have to get tough with you!" 

His eyes opened. He licked his lips, and I managed to get some water past them and into his mouth. He blinked furiously and finally focused on me. "Blair?" 

"You were expecting maybe Robinson Crusoe?" I joked feebly as I stroked his hair. "Where did you find this raft?" 

"It's my trunks. I linked them together with the rope you had around you. They surfaced when the Tweedle Dee..." He stopped abruptly. 

As much as I was afraid to ask, I had to know. "What happened to the Tweedle Dee?" 

He hesitated, then looked away. "She sank." 

My gut clutched. "Henri and Joel?" 

"The last I saw, they'd managed to launch a lifeboat. They tried to reach us, but they kept getting blown further and further away." He was silent for a moment. "If there's any justice in this life, they'll have made it." 

We both knew exactly how much justice there was. I closed my eyes and said a brief prayer for my friends, hoping against hope that they might have survived. "How long have we been drifting?" 

"This will be our second night." 

"We could be anywhere." I looked at the umbrella and the afghan and the bottle of water. "I don't suppose you've got a compass in one of these trunks, do you?" He dug up a cigarette lighter. "Jim, I'm not my brother. I don't smoke." 

His grin was tired, but nothing short of smug. He did something to the lighter that I couldn't see, then extended his hand, and nestled in his palm was a small, round compass. He studied it carefully. "We seem to be drifting in an easterly direction." 

"Maybe we'll reach land before we starve or die of thirst." 

"But you're not too hopeful. I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist of this duo." He drew me back into the notch of his legs. 

"Generally speaking, I'd have to agree, but I think this time," I kneeled up and took a gulp of water, then brought his mouth to mine and fed him the liquid that way, "this time I'll beg to differ. I think we're gonna die, Jim." I leaned back against him. 

"Devious son of a bitch!" He'd been surprised and had swallowed reluctantly. I could feel his shrug against my spine, and his large palms stroked down over my chest. "We're all gonna die, babe. No one gets out of this life alive." 

"But not yet!" The words were a soundless protest. "Not now, when I've just found you!" He hummed happily, and I turned my head to gaze back into his cool blue eyes. They were heated. "Huh? What's that all about?" 

"Nothing, babe." But he kissed my jaw. "Listen, Blair, how close to the island were we when the typhoon hit?" 

"About a thousand klicks." 

He did a fast calculation in his head. "That's about five hundred and forty nautical miles." 

"Yeah. So?" 

"Is it possible the storm drove us closer than you think?" 

"Anything is possible, Jim. I just don't know. We could be anywhere along the South American coast. Shit, that bitch of a storm could even have driven us toward Asia. If we'd been sailing in the Atlantic, I'd say we'd hit the Bermuda Triangle." 

His head suddenly whipped around. "What was that?" 

"What was what? I don't hear anything." 

"Sounds like breakers." 

"I still don't hear anything." 

"Look! Over there!" 

"Okay, fine. I don't _see_ anything!" 

"Blair!" He took my face in his hands and turned it until I was looking due east. 

"What...?" 

"Canoes! Out-riggers! Look! We're saved!" 

I gasped. I didn't see the canoes, not then, they were too far away. But I could see, rising high on the horizon, the smoking hulk of a huge volcano. 

Jim's arms tightened around me, becoming almost painful. " _You're_ saved." 

"What?" And then I remembered. He still had a date with a volcano. 

* * *

Isla del Volcan Repugnante-Jim 

There were about twenty canoes, each one holding four men whose faces were decorated with red markings. 

The Chopec in the lead canoe paddled closer to our make-shift raft. "Are you Jim?" 

I nodded, but it seemed that wasn't verification enough. 

"Are you Jim... _Ellison_?" 

I nodded again, and he shouted something over his shoulder in another language, and the men in the other boats let out a roar of satisfaction. "You come with me. Is this your..." The word he spoke was in the same strange language. 

Suddenly I was afraid they would try to make me leave Blair behind. I put my arm around his shoulder and held him securely. "He comes with me, or you don't get your hero!" 

"I am Incacha, shaman of the tribe. You are both welcome! Now, if you will enter my canoe, I will take you to Isla del Volcan Repugnante." 

I made sure Blair was safely in the canoe before I climbed in behind him. "My trunks?" 

Incacha spoke to his men, and four canoes separated from the others and paddled into position, two on each side. "It shall be taken care of." He gestured toward the island, and we began to skim over the waves. 

"This is so cool, Jim!" Blair whispered excitedly as he leaned back against me. "The language Incacha is speaking is Quechua." 

"How do you know that?" 

"I have a master's in anthropology! That's what I taught at Rainier." 

"Do you know what he's saying?" The shaman had been carrying on a conversation with an older man in another canoe, and I was a little leery of the glances Blair had been garnering. 

"It's been a long time since I heard it spoken. I can pick up some of it." Blair's brow was furrowed in concentration. "Tonight we'll have a..." A smile lit his deep blue eyes, and he licked his lips in happy anticipation. "... a big feast, Jim! After the feast, you will..." Abruptly, he turned so pale that I thought he was going to faint. 

"Blair, what is it? What's wrong?" I was beginning to panic. "Is it your head?" 

The expression in his eyes was horrified. 

The shaman faced me implacably. "After the feast, you will jump into Volcan Repugnante. Okay?" 

I didn't want to end my life, not now, not when I had finally found someone I could... I could care about. But I thought of that goddamned brain cloud, of how the end would be if I didn't jump, of the tubes, and the IV lines, and my brain turning to mush. I didn't want Blair to see me like that. I raised my head and met the shaman's gaze. "Okay." 

* * *

Isla del Volcan Repugnante-Blair 

I felt nauseous, and I didn't know if it was the remnants of the concussion or the knowledge that within a few hours Jim Ellison would be throwing himself into a live volcano. 

Once the canoes landed on the white, sandy beach of the island, Jim was taken to a special hut. I wanted to go with him, but Incacha told me, in the language of the Chopecs, that because Jim was a ... a something or other, he had to be sequestered until the feast. He would be in a hut similar to a sauna, and the only person who could join him, other than the men who would oversee the ritual cleansing of his body, was his ... but again I did not understand the word he used. 

Jim forced a smile. "I'll see you later, Blair." And he went with the shaman's men. 

"Jim." His name was softer than a whisper on my lips. 

He whirled around and came back to me. "Babe, I..." His mouth came down on mine, so hard my lips were bruised. My fingers bit into the muscles of his shoulders, and I tried to pull him closer to me. Before I could part my lips to tease his tongue into entering my mouth, he pulled himself away. "I..." He turned on his heel and hurried away with the men. 

Beneath our feet, the ground shook. 

"You don't have to worry, Shaman," I snarled. "Jim Ellison is an honorable man. He's said he'll jump into your volcano; he will. The goddamned, noble fool!" 

Incacha had watched the scene play out with shrewd, narrowed eyes. "Come, young man. I will see to your injury." He took me to a small hut. The boy who stood in the doorway extended a coconut shell cup, which Incacha took from him. He murmured some words over it and urged me to drink. "It will help the pain in your head, young..." Again he used one of the words I couldn't understand. I knew it was important that I understand it, but his mention of my headache distracted me, brought my attention back to how much my head did hurt. With other things to worry about, it had not been at the forefront of my mind; now it returned with a vengeance. 

I gulped down the sweet, milky-white liquid, and almost immediately began to feel drowsy and lightheaded. The boy led me into the hut and gestured for me to lie down on a mat woven of island grasses. It seemed to beckon me, and was surprisingly comfortable. My eyes grew heavy, and within seconds they drifted shut, and I slid into a deep sleep. For a heartbeat it was dreamless, but then began the first of the recurring dreams. This one had plagued my sleep for the last eight years. 

* * *

We had been driven back and driven back yet again. Now we were huddled on a spit of land with the sea before us and our enemies at our back. I stood beside my Sentinel, a spear in one hand and a knife in the other, ready to die with him to protect our people. 

The ground beneath our feet began to shift and heave, and Volcan Repugnante was born. Within minutes our enemies were destroyed in a rain of fire and molten rock. 

"More will return, and we will be punished for this!" wailed the old women of the tribe, and not all of them were female. 

Again the ground quaked and vibrated, and this time the land began to float on the ocean waves that suddenly surrounded us. Further and further out to sea the island drifted, until it was impossible to see the mainland. 

"We have been saved! The volcano has saved us!" 

"But now it will destroy us! See, it is still spewing forth lava!" 

The elders gathered together in a holy place. They prayed and fasted. Finally they returned to face their distraught people. "The volcano has indeed saved us, but now it is demanding payment. One of us must be sacrificed! The gods have told us the man to do this is our Sentinel." 

"NO!" I shouted. He trusted me, cared for me. The planting moon had come and gone three times before he had finally learned to do more than simply accept me as his Guide. I would not lose him now. "Choose someone else! Surely the volcano would rather a virgin? Or have we none of those left?" 

My Sentinel touched my arm. "It is my task to always protect the tribe. If this is what is required of me, I will do it." 

I threw myself into his arms. "No! Please, no! I cannot live without you. I do not want to live without you!" 

He stroked my hair, and the motion soothed me. "Very well. We will seek another solution." I didn't realize that he had sent a silent message to the tribe's chieftain. 

"Guide, we will need you to see if any survive on the other side of the island. Perhaps there is one there who will be willing to sacrifice him or herself. We will do nothing until your return." 

I bowed to him, relief making me almost giddy. "This I will do." I made my way through our makeshift village, but before I reached the outskirts, my Sentinel caught up with me. He pulled me into his arms and caressed my lips with his. Although we had rutted many times, very rarely did he kiss me, and never before witnesses. I left the village, my heart filled with joy. Fool that I was, it never occurred to me that he was kissing me good-bye. 

He waited no longer than it took for me to jog out of sight before climbing to the top of the volcano and throwing himself in. By the time I returned it was over. 

I ran from one hut to another, frantically searching for him. "Where is he?" I demanded furiously. As one they turned to gaze at the mountain, which was no longer smoking. 

"He did what he was born to do. He protected the tribe." 

I raced to the top of the mountain, but it was sealed, as if it had never erupted, and there was no way for me to join the man I loved. I howled my despair to the skies until my throat closed up and no sounds would emerge. I tore my hair and gouged my flesh. 

When I came back down off that benighted mountain, none dared meet my eyes. Half blind, weak from loss of blood and grief, I stood in the center of the village. "Curse you!" I whispered hoarsely, and they shuddered, for I was a powerful shaman in my own right. "Curse you all! You think that this is over, that the volcano's desire for human flesh has been sated? I swear to you that this is only the beginning! In one hundred years Volcan Repugnante will awaken again, and again it will demand a sacrifice. This volcano will never be satisfied. Never!" I staggered and would have fallen but for the chieftain, who caught me. 

"Please, I beg you! You cannot do this! Think of all who will die! You would curse the children?" 

My Sentinel was gone! What did I care about these people? I stared at the little ones, and I thought of how he had loved them. I pushed myself away from the chieftain. "The curse has been cast, it cannot be recalled. The most I can do is temper it." A sigh of relief rose to float on the night air, and my eyes narrowed. "I would have followed my Sentinel down into the volcano. If ever there is another Guide who loves his Sentinel enough to do that, then the curse will be lifted." 

But there would never be a Guide who loved as I had; I had no doubt of that. Satisfied that these people would be punished until the end of time, I stumbled from the village and made my way to the beach. There was nothing more for me to live for. I walked into the surf. When the waves reached my chest I began to swim, and I swam until exhaustion overtook me, and then I drowned. 

* * *

I woke with a start, gasping for breath. I hated that dream, and wondered what Freud would have said about it. Probably something sexual to do with Naomi. I shuddered and found myself falling back into an uneasy doze. 

The dreams in which I would run through the forest on four legs searching for someone had originally started when I was in my middle teens. I used to look forward to them, because they would always result in an extremely intense orgasm. Eventually, in spite of the pleasurable climax, I began to dread the dreams. I could never find him, no matter how hard I tried, and the futility of my search grew more painful with each dream, until it became unbearable. 

I taught myself to stop the dream as soon as I realized I was having it, and now months would go by before it disturbed my sleep again. And even though I was able to prevent myself from dreaming, I always awoke with a sense of loss. 

This time, however, I had no control over the dream... 

* * *

I whined and crouched low upon the ground, my tail tucked tightly between my legs. This place was not the usual forest in which I ran. The air was hotter, thicker, heavy with humidity that had me panting in a fruitless effort to cool myself. //Fear not, young Guide. Your Sentinel awaits you.// The presence in my mind seemed to envelope the essence of who I was, and I was comforted. //Now, go forth to seek and find him.// 

A warm breeze redolent of the scents of the rainforest carried a tantalizing odor that had me quivering in anticipation. I recognized his scent! I bounded to my feet and began to run, my head thrust forward, my nostrils flared, tracking him. Ahead of me the thick underbrush suddenly parted to reveal a clearing that was carpeted with lush grasses and fragrant blossoms. But all that mattered to me was the black panther who lay in the center of the clearing, his blue eyes watching cautiously as I approached him. 

//It is you?// 

//It is me. It has taken a long time for you to find me.// 

//And for you to find me.// I approached him without any fear, although somewhere in my mind I knew that panthers and wolves were natural enemies. I lay down beside him and licked his muzzle. 

The panther raised a massive paw and rested it gently on my neck, and proceeded to run his rough tongue over my head and shoulders, imprinting my scent on his enhanced senses. I rolled over onto my back, exposing my vulnerable belly to him, and he nuzzled and licked at the sheath that protected my cock, arousing me. I whimpered and parted my legs so he would have better access to me. 

The ground began to tremble and shake, and at first I thought it was due to my approaching orgasm. A deafening sound tore the quiet of that glade, and the panther flinched as molten ash fell from the sky. Huge rocks thundered to the ground around us, and I bolted to my feet, ready to escape the sudden madness of this place. 

//Follow me! Hurry!// But he wasn't behind me, and when I looked back, I saw his beautiful black pelt burned away, leaving muscle and bone exposed. I raced back to him. 

//Leave me.// The mental voice was filled with pain, weak and fading. 

//Never.// Carefully, trying to cause him as little additional pain as possible, I covered his body with mine. //I will never leave you.// Together, we waited for the end... 

* * *

Incacha was squatting beside me when I awoke, carefully brushing the hair from my face. I shivered and stared blankly at him, and pushed myself into a sitting position. My headache had vanished, and I felt marginally better, but the memories of the recurring dreams disturbed me more than I liked. Never had they been so vivid, or so morbid. I'd never died in them before. 

Incacha's expression was somber. "Bathe and dress. It is time." 

"There has to be some way for Jim to get out of this! Please, Incacha!" 

The ground trembled, and he balanced himself on his fingertips and shook his head. "Enqueri must meet his fate." 

"'Enqueri'? Jim? Why do you call him that?" 

"That is the name he has been given." 

"Okay, fine, I don't care if you call him Little Bo Peep! Look, I can make up some story that will satisfy Naomi. I'll tell her there's no more chatarra, that it washed into the sea..." 

"You do not understand. Without this sacrifice, my people, this island, will be destroyed when the volcano erupts. The chatarra is the price we have agreed to pay for the..." He used one of the words that I couldn't understand, and I grew impatient with myself. "... but we would have met any price. There is no choice. Many..." again that word! "... have died to appease Volcan Repugnante, and still it demands more flesh." His eyes were tired. He rose to his feet and pointed to a pile of clothes. "Bathe and dress, and do not keep us waiting." 

The boy showed me to a small waterfall where I was able to wash off the itchy coating of dried salt water. He handed me a conch shell and gestured toward my head. I poured its contents over my hair and massaged it in, then stuck my head under the cascade of water and rinsed it out. By the time I finished and was feeling more human, the soft shades of twilight had started to fall. We returned to the little hut. 

I examined the clothing and was surprised to find the dress trousers and shirt were in my size. A more careful examination revealed that they were mine; I had worn them our first night out to sea, and must have left them behind in Jim's stateroom when I returned to my own cabin the following morning. I spared a thought as to how they had wound up on this volcanic island, then decided I didn't really care. 

I stepped out of the hut to find the village brightly lit with torches. The elders of the village, with Jim in their midst, ate the crustaceans that had been harvested off their island's shore, and drank the potent beverage their women had fermented. The younger members of the tribe sang and danced, joyful that a hero had been found who would save their miserable asses. 

The ground vibrated, and a terrified silence fell. Everyone stared at Jim. He was wearing a black tuxedo that looked even better on him than the white one. From where I sat, I could see him swallow heavily. Incacha's voice was quiet when he spoke as if answering a question. "There is no ceremony, Enqueri. You just jump in." 

Jim swallowed again, stood, and faced the shaman. "Take me to the volcano." 

Incacha pointed the way to a long, crooked path that wove in and out and eventually wound to the top of the volcano. The tip was smoking and glowed with a dull, sullen fire. The Chopecs followed, and I was left sitting in the center of the village, alone. 

As if a veil had been lifted, I suddenly understood the Quechua words that had eluded my grasp. Sentinel! Guide! Jim was a sentinel. I was a guide. 

"No! No, goddamn it!" I ran after them, ignoring the rocks and sharp bits of vegetation that bit into my bare feet. "Wait! You wait, Jim Ellison! Stop right there!" I shouted. 

To my surprise, he did stop, but he stood there ignoring me. I was standing before him now. His face was calm, his eyes blank as they stared into the flickering light of a burning torch that lit the way to the top of the volcano. 

Sentinels could lose themselves in sensory objects at times; that was one of the reasons they needed a guide. 

"Listen to my voice, Jim. Come back to me!" I spoke the words over and over until finally he shook himself and met my eyes. 

"Blair?" His nostrils flared, and he leaned toward me, running his nose against the curve of my cheek and into my hair. 

My breath was expelled in a sigh of relief. "Jim!" I rubbed his arms. "I love you! I've fallen in love with you! All these years, when I've protected my heart, when I swore I'd never... But now I've finally found you, and you're gonna kill yourself?" 

He looked stunned. "You love me?" 

"Jim, you just can't die and leave me on this stinking Earth alone without you!" 

He raised his hand to touch me, then dropped it and stepped back. "I love you too, babe. It's great. I'm glad." His eyes glittered with unshed tears, and he blinked rapidly. "But the timing stinks! I gotta go!" 

"Jim! Will you listen to me? I finally understand the words that Incacha was saying!" 

"Go back down, and... huh? What are you talking about?" 

"All those times when you knew what I'd said, even though I'd hardly spoken out loud? When you heard the breakers on this island, even though we were out of normal earshot? When you've seen things, or..." I recalled the times when we'd made love, and blushed. "Or known that I wanted you, or was ready for you to take me, just from my scent..." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"You're a Sentinel." 

"I know that. You're not making much sense. I'm still lost, Blair." 

"Jim, I'm a Guide." 

"Since when?" 

"Since forever. I just couldn't find my Sentinel." 

His eyes blazed with excitement, and his face lit up. "A Guide?" And then it fell. "It's too late for me. Get out of here, Blair. This is dangerous!" 

"No shit, Sherlock! Don't you understand?" I grabbed his arm and gave it a shake. "You're _my_ Sentinel. I'm _your_ Guide! We belong together. Forever. Come hell or high water." 

"No." He started back up the volcano like he had a poker up his butt. "Blair, I don't want you. Can't you get that through your thick Sandburg skull? I had fun fucking you, but that's all it was! Now get the fuck off this goddamned volcano before I pick you up and throw you down off it!" 

"What's the problem, Ellison? Are you afraid of the commitment? You'll have to..." My voice cracked. "... to love and... and honor me for about thirty seconds." 

"Blair, I used to be a cop. 'Protect and Serve' weren't just some words on the side of a police car. I lived by that. And when I stopped... I've got to do this, babe. I've got to be brave and jump in. Good-bye." 

He was saying good-bye without even a touch, a kiss, a... I was stunned. He had gone about a half dozen yards closer to the mouth of the volcano before I was able to shake myself out of my stupefaction. "Just one goddamn fucking minute, Jim Ellison!" 

"Please don't come out here." 

"Fuck that." I stormed up to him. "I'm jumping in with you." 

Time seemed to stand still. We were suddenly surrounded by silence so thick it wrapped around us like a blanket. The shaman, his people, the volcano itself, all faded into nothingness, and it was just Jim and I. 

"Blair. I can't let you do that." He walked away from me again, and I hurried to catch up with him. 

I dragged him to a halt and spun him around. "I told you, Ellison. I do what I want. And what I want is to be with you for the rest of my life, for however long that might be. What I won't do is live without you! That wouldn't be living, Jim, that would just be existing!" I reached up to thread my fingers through the short strands of his hair and whispered, "'Long ago...'" I embraced him, rubbing my cheek over his heart, and willed him to feel my determination. "Listen to me! Nobody knows anything. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see." 

"Babe..." He touched my hair, which was being tossed about by the breeze that had suddenly risen. "I've been miserable for so long, years of my life wasted." With firm steps, he began that final climb, and I fell into step beside him. 

We reached the top, and he stared up through the tendrils of smoke that rose gracefully into the night sky. His arm came around my shoulder. "It's been a long and crooked road getting to you, Blair Sandburg." His head lowered, and for a second, his lips were warm and gentle on mine. When he drew back, his eyes were shining. "Did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you, it felt like I'd seen you before?" 

"Really?" I sighed and laid my head against his arm. "You're not going anywhere without me. And please don't ask me if I'm sure, or I'll shove you in before you can jump in!" 

That startled a chuckle from him. "So, what are we hoping for?" 

"A miracle?" 

He nodded and took a step closer to the edge of the volcano. "I love you." 

"You do? Okay. Just please don't start humming Bolero, okay?" 

Jim laughed again. "Okay. This is it." Those blue eyes of his gazed at me as if he was trying to memorize my features, and he took a deep breath, then coughed at the sulfurous fumes. 

"Dial it down." My first official action as his Guide. And my last. I waited until he was under control once more. "Give me your hand." I swallowed, but my mouth was too dry to even work up a thimbleful of spit. I was so scared, but there was no way I was going to let him do this alone. His fingers closed over mine. "I love you too, Jim." 

"Okay. On the count of three..." 

"Just a second. One, two, three, jump? Or one, two, jump on three?" 

"Blair!" 

"Sorry, babe." I brought his hand to my chest, pulling him closer, and kissed him. Then, side by side, we faced the future and stepped out into space... 

The Raft-Again 

We dropped like a pair of stones, rushing down to meet the molten rock that dwelled in the belly of that volcano. The heat rose to steal our breath. Sweat poured off us, breathing became increasingly more difficult... 

And then we were being catapulted back, up and out, like a pair of meteors flashing across the night sky. The force tore us apart; the wind tore his name from my lips. "Jjjiiimmm!" 

Compared to the heated night air, the water felt frigid. I went in feet first, down, down, down, and just when I began thinking there was no end, my journey was reversed and I was flung back to the surface. 

I broke through the water, choking and gasping, having been unable to prevent myself from taking a breath even though I had been under water. My hair was wrapped around my face, and I scrabbled at it to get it out of my eyes. 

"Blair! BLAIR!" Jim was calling for me, desperation in his voice. "Babe, don't do this to me! Don't you goddamn be dead while I'm still alive!" 

I had to cough to clear my throat. "Here! I'm here, Jim!" I treaded water, not sure in which direction to swim. 

"Blair!" My name sounded like a prayer. Suddenly he was there beside me, hugging me so tightly I thought my ribs would shatter. "Why aren't you dead?" 

"Why aren't _you_ dead? The Big Nasty blew us out!" I held on, content to stay there in his arms forever. "Oh, god, Jim! It looks like we've got our miracle!" 

We stared back toward where Isla del Volcan Repugnante should have been. There was nothing there. Had the curse finally been lifted? Had the people of the little island found peace at last? I didn't care. They could take their own chances with fate. Jim had nearly died because of them. 

My lover stared into the darkness that surrounded us in dismay. Well, it wasn't as dark for him as it was for me. "I hate to tell you this, Blair, but we're gonna drown." 

"No. I refuse to believe that. We went through too much together. We're gonna be all right!" 

Abruptly, there were huge splashes, four of them. Jim's trunks breached the ocean's surface and settled to bob lazily a few yards away. "How'd you do that?" 

"It's a Guide thing, Jim." I grinned at him smugly. I wasn't about to tell him I had no clue. A long rope trailed through the water, still fastened to one of the trunks. Jim swam to that one, and I swam to the others, retrieving them one at a time. He tethered them together, and once our raft was secured, we hoisted ourselves aboard. Jim opened one and rummaged for dry clothing. 

We toweled each other off and dressed, too chilled to take advantage just then of all the naked flesh available. "Oh, I do like the way you look in my clothes, Blair." Jim handed me one of the Coleman lanterns that had been packed in that particular trunk. 

"Good thing. These are what I'll be wearing until we make land." Abruptly, I asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were a sentinel?" 

"I was warned not to, that people would think I was a freak or would be afraid of me. Why didn't you tell me you were a guide?" 

"Um... For the same reason?" I was not about to tell him of the futile, useless, misguided searches that left me certain that I was the one guide in the world who was destined to be without his sentinel. I relaxed onto my back, gazed up at the star-spangled sky, and breathed deeply. "Mmmm. Isn't this romantic?" 

"Yeah. But..." 

"What's the matter?" 

"I'm still going to die." 

"What's wrong with you, Jim?" He tensed, and I rolled to my side. "You never told me exactly." 

He sat with his right knee crossed over his left leg, leaning on it and staring thoughtfully into space. "I have a brain cloud." 

Had I heard correctly? "A brain cloud?" 

"It's this fog of black tissue." He demonstrated with his hand how it ran from his forehead to the base of his skull. "Y'know, maybe I should have gotten a second opinion." 

"Jim, someone tells you you're going to die from something called a 'brain cloud,' and you don't get a second opinion? What are you?" I teased. "A hypochondriac?" 

He wouldn't meet my eyes, and it hit me like a blow to the chest that that was how he saw himself. "I just felt so bad for so long, Blair. And Doctor Banks..." 

"So you listened to some quack who... Wait a second. Doctor Banks? Doctor _Simon_ Banks?" 

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Simon Banks is my mother's doctor. He doesn't see any other patients; Naomi owns him! He set you up!" 

"Why would he..." I could see the light go on. "Fuck! So your mother could get some asshole to be the hero she needed! And I was so pathetic! I fell into their palms like a ripe plum! God, how stupid was that? I let them make me a dupe, a pawn!" He stared into the light of the lantern, sliding into a zone. 

"Jim, no! Listen to my voice. Come back to me, babe. Jim! Jim! You've got the rest of your life ahead of you!" 

"The rest of my life. Yes. And I'll be spending it with you." He stared into my eyes, and this time I was the one in danger of zoning. His fingers caught in my hair and flexed against my scalp. "That's great. But still..." 

"What? What is it now?" 

"We're on a raft; there's no land in sight." He shook his head and peeked at me through his lashes. "I don't know." 

"It's always gonna be something with you, isn't it, Jim Ellison?" 

"I'll tell you something, babe." A hand dropped to my shoulder and yanked me into his arms. The other hand tugged my hair so my face was tipped up. His lips were salty, but they were the lips I wanted to kiss for the rest of my life. "Wherever we go, whatever we do, we're taking this luggage with us." 

I hugged him to me and sighed happily. "I wonder where we'll end up." I nestled my head under his chin, content to sail on his steamer trunks for the rest of my life if need be. 

"Away from the things of man, my love. Away from the things of man." 

//And they loved happily ever after...// 

~End~ 

* * *

End Jim versus the Volcano by Tinnean: tinneantoo@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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